


Ripple

by shortstuffthesecond



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: (Yeah basically a little bit of everything.), Alternate Universe - Dystopia, Alternate Universe - Science Fiction, Angst and Fluff and H/C and Humor and Action..., Characters will be added in time, Jean POV, M/M, MP Captain!Erwin (he's a good guy though no worries), Minor Character Death(s), Minor Krista Lenz | Historia Reiss/Ymir, Slow Build, Some Fortune Teller!Levi, The Universe is almost an actual character, bookshop employee!Jean, first person POV, fortune teller!Marco, jean and eren bicker and insult each other but they're friends
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-04-15
Updated: 2014-07-28
Packaged: 2018-01-19 11:46:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 50,080
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1468300
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shortstuffthesecond/pseuds/shortstuffthesecond
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>"I figure I shouldn’t  get so worked up about a blueprint because it’s not like I can do anything with it. I mean, what could I possibly do? Burn everything down? Destroy the wall that separates our world from the outside? Pull a Jaeger and attempt and likely fail to destroy the system? I’m just a bookshop manager. I sell adventures, not participate in them."</i>
</p><p>Underneath the twisted reality of Sina, the dome that "protects" humanity, there's a secret organization run by middle aged criminals. Jean sells illegal books until he, some college dropout friends, and a fortune teller named Marco are forced by the circumstances to join that organization and aid in destroying Sina from the inside out, for the sake of freeing humanity. Yeah, you could say Jean is a very, very unlucky guy, but that's just because the Universe loves him.</p><p>Rated T for now because of Bad Words. Rating is gonna go up eventually.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Always

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yo. 4 things:  
> 1 - Marco doesn't show up in this chapter (well, ok, he sort of does... but only sort of) but he's in the next one... and the next, and the next, and the next...  
> 2 - This isn't beta'd but if you wanna beta it then please go ahead.  
> 3 - I suuuuuuuuuck at world building oh em gee.  
> 4 - Have fun~

There’s something warm over my right hand. I move it a bit, and the warmth moves to my wrist. I turn my head slowly, unwittingly rub my cheek against the softness under my head. I open my eyes then. The softness is my pillow, the warmth is a ray of light peaking into the room through the half-open window so close to me I could definitely close it all the way without even getting out of bed. I sigh and rub my face. It’s too early to be awake. Any time is too early to be awake, actually. I fucking hate mornings.

With that thought in mind, I get out of bed, each inch further from it a sad accomplishment. The red numbers in the digital clock on my nightstand say it’s 7:24, meaning that for once I woke up before my alarm. I’m half tempted to go back to bed and take a 6 minute nap now, but if I do that, there’s a big chance of not waking up. Resisting the urge to groan – it’s too fucking early, I don’t even have the energy to make any actual noise – I start moving on auto-pilot; open closet, shove arm inside, grab clean but rumpled clothes, put them on, robotic steps to the bathroom, take a piss, wash hands, brush teeth, wash face, shave, feel a little bit more like a functional human being, back to bedroom, socks (oh. There’s a hole in one of these. Huh.), shoes, fold blanket, silence the alarm, open window – and here it is. The cool breeze of early mornings. And the light is warm as always.

Always.

As in every single day.

No exceptions.

The artificial sun always offers the perfect warmth to contrast with the artificial breeze. So annoying. And this is why I fucking hate mornings. They are always, always the same.

I grab my wallet, keys, and a cold slice of leftover pizza that’s still in the box over the kitchen counter before I’m out the door. Yesterday I took the elevator down, so today I’ll take the stairs. It’s just 2 floors, but I don’t see anyone on my way down. Too bad. Not that I’d talk to them anyway, but it would still be a welcome change in my routine. Then again, in this old and rather gross complex I’m unfortunate to live in, the only inhabitants are overly talkative old women, a frankly scary tall, loud, bald man, and an even scarier short, silent, black-haired dude. Yeah… Now that I think about it, it’s a good thing I never see anyone when I leave in the morning.

On my way to work, I always, always see a mother take her 2 kids to school, and while her clothes change every other day, they’re always wearing pristine white and green Sina Elementary uniforms, always holding hands. I walk past 2 cleaning robots, they’re always sweeping trash into their chunky bodies to release it moments later in the shape of small, compact cubes, which are later collected and taken to who-knows-where to become who-knows-what.

“Good morning, Jean.” That’s Dr. Grisha Jaeger. He always greets me when I pass by and he’s locking the front door or already a few steps in front of me. He’s a weird guy, to be honest. I’ve known the Jaegers practically all my life, and while Dr. Jaeger is always polite and gentle, sometimes he gets this look that’s either too enthusiastic, or too cold, or too fake, and just so inappropriate for the moment, I kind of fear for his sanity. But whatever. Not like I’m the best judge of character, really, and Mrs. Jaeger is too smart and careful a woman to marry a psycho, so. I trust her judgment, if anything.

“Morning, sir.”

We don’t talk after that, and I have to turn around the corner while he walks straight ahead towards the Sina Hospital. Minutes later I’m standing in front of the bookshop I work at, located on a narrow but long, busy street. The shop is a two-story building but it’s tiny, barely big enough to fit half a dozen people, with books covering the walls floor to ceiling, plus some small piles of books I couldn’t find space for on the shelves on the vinyl floor, near the corners. There’s a table in the center covered in books as well. The sign above the door is simple, black, in the shape of a book, but with the letters P-I-X-I-S carved out of it. Pixis is my boss, by the way. He’s the owner of this shop. Old guy, bald, millionaire (don’t ask how he got the money, I don’t know and I don’t really want to) with a thing for antiques and anything that depicts the outside world, like books, paintings, century-old tapestries etc. He was a close friend of my grandpa’s, which is how I got this job. He stops by every once in a while with new books, or just to check up on the shop. Sometimes he takes a book with him when he leaves.

 You’d think that no one would buy books nowadays, when everything you could want or need in terms of information could be found in tablets or through other modern high-tech means. It’s true that books aren’t needed in Sina, haven’t been needed in _ages_ , but there’s a considerable number of people who still enjoy the solidity of tomes. I don’t even read much, but I enjoyed fantasy books a lot when I was a kid (grandpa had quite a few of them), and fantasy books are hard to find in Sina. No surprise there, if you think about it. It’s only logical for the System to do whatever it can to prevent kids from growing up with funny ideas about visiting foreign lands, meeting mysterious, foreign people, and seeing exotic creatures. Kids don’t need those ludicrous ideas. They have Sina already. The city-state is all they need.

Right?

This is why I keep the sci-fi, world geography, history and fantasy section away from the rest and pray that the Military Police never find out about them. If that happened, I might be taken away for interrogation and never come back, just like my parents. So I keep those books hidden in a hidden and locked inside a loveseat in the reading nook parallel to the counter and under the stairs that lead to Pixis’s rarely used office and only show them to customers on my boss’ Reliable list. There’s only one customer who’s not on that list but is still allowed to see the forbidden books. Blond, bright, blue-eyed. Ring any bells? Probably not. I haven’t talked about him yet, after all.

I unlock and open the door. I push aside the curtains that cover the shop windows and flip the little old-fashioned ‘OPEN’ / ‘CLOSED’ sign on the door to indicate we’re OPEN. The cold, white lights flicker to life automatically upon detecting my presence, one of them struggling at first, flickering on and off before making a click sound and finally staying bright. Then I proceed to put on the uniform apron, turn on the computer, and follow the rest of the not-at-all fascinating routine. This is what I do 6 days a week, after all. The first hours of work are always the same thing. Always, always.

A couple of hours later, and all I have to do is sit my ass down and wait for a customer to walk in.

And you may be thinking, “Holy flipping shit, Jean. Could you be any more boring? Could your work be any more boring?” And yeah, I agree with you wholeheartedly.

And among that boredom I often find myself looking out the glass windows in the front of the shop into the street, just like right now. As I watch people walk and cars hover past today, something catches my eye. One of the stores across the street had had a “FOR SALE” sign stuck to the single, small window on its door for the past 3 months. The store was even smaller than the bookshop, narrower, the outside metal walls blackened at the bottom, the red door covered in small yellow and blue-ish spots where the red paint had flaked off. It was visibly dirty and old and looked completely awkward squeezed between two much bigger, cleaner, more vibrant stores. Today, the sign on the door was gone.

I frown and lean against the counter, head supported by my hand. Weird, I think. And then I try to imagine who could have been interested in such a small, weird space. Maybe a rich eccentric bought it to use as storage? Maybe someone from another shop bought it? Maybe it was bought by a family of gnomes.

Or maybe it was bought by that guy coming out of it. That tall, black-haired guy with dark jeans, white button-up, and as many freckles on his face as his old door.

That guy dragging a ladder and a wooden sign out of the store. That guy climbing up the ladder and hanging the wooden sign by short chains attached to the ends of it to supports I can’t see from here. That guy climbing down the ladder and putting his hands on his hips to admire the sign that said “FORTUNE TELLER” in big, wavy, red, attention-catching letters, and “TASSEOGRAPHY / CARTOMANCY / SCRYING” in smaller blue letters underneath.

I frown even harder. “ _What the fuck?”_

As I stare and frown, Freckles outside turns around towards the street and just stands there for a minute with the biggest, dumbest smile on his face, before he walks back inside his weird little store.

Fortune teller, huh?

Well, color me surprised.

Fortune tellers are rare in Sina – rarer than bookshops, even. Sina is a city-state that works on logic. It’s a cold place built out of metal, glass and computers. The sunlight is fake, digital. The moonlight is fake and digital. The morning breeze is the result of vents and enormous fans strategically placed across the city to purify the air. It only rains when there’s a fire somewhere and the smoke detectors and city-wide fire prevention systems release water in an automated attempt to put out the flames or at least keep them from spreading until firemen arrive. In a place like this, quaint little things like fantasy stories or fortune telling are illogical, unnecessary, unwelcome by most, often illegal. Obviously, there are still many people who enjoy those things, and you can’t really blame them for wanting a respite from reality, or wanting a reason to let their minds wander and hope. But those are the fools, the ungrateful rebels who don’t appreciate our city that protects us from the cruelties of the outside world and gifts us with comfortable lives.

Now don’t get me wrong, I don’t really _hate_ this city. Crime rates are incredibly low, homelessness is practically a myth, everyone receives the same education, from kindergarten to high school, and we are allowed to choose for ourselves what to do with our lives after that. So, it’s not a dreadful place, you know? But man, it’s just so… fake. So boring. It’s like we’re living as cattle. We’re born, we’re fed, we grow, we contribute to the economy, we die. That’s it. Where’s the meaning of all this? Do our lives even have any meaning? Is this the best humanity can offer? Is it really, truly enough just to survive? Is it really stupid to wish for some difficulties once in a while, some hurdles to overcome from time to time, just to keep our brains from rotting?

I sigh, turning my head away from the red door, long since closed – the “FOR SALE” sign now replaced by a purple one, with the word “OPEN” written on it in the same style as the sign outside the shop, only in yellow. There are tiny stars, I think, surrounding the word as well. I smile a little at that. Stars… what a dumb cliche.

I wonder if the fortune teller is gonna have many clients or if they’ll be closing down after a month.

* * *

 

By the time I’m done with work (and we sold like, 5 books today. It was a busy day) it’s already evening, and I close up the shop and leave, heading not towards my tiny apartment, but the Jaegers’ home. As I mentioned earlier, I’ve known them since I was a child, and grew up with Eren and Mikasa, Dr. Jaeger’s children. It’s a bi-weekly tradition to gather at their place for movie night, and I would never, ever miss movie night.

I stop at the grocery store on my way back since it’s my turn to buy snacks (and Sasha’s to provide the drinks). I remember to buy extra for the monster inhabiting Sasha’s stomach (no human alone could eat as much as she does, I swear), practically shove my credit card at the cashier when they decide to move at a glacial pace, not even bothering with politeness when they ask in an annoying, nasally voice, “Is that all, sir?” – and holy shit my blood went from cool to boiling in 0.5. No, really, getting shitty attitude from people I don’t even know pisses me off.

I grumble to myself all the way to my destination, fantasizing about the possible reactions that cashier would have if I shoved my credit card down their throat, and by the time I’m standing in front of the Jaegers’ door I take a deep breath and the world is peaceful once again. The door opens as soon as I knock, and I immediately shove half the grocery bags at Eren.

“Good evening to you too, Jean,” he says, as if he isn’t used to my behavior.

“Whatever, dickbag. How’ve you been? Where’s Mikasa?” I take off my shoes, leaving them by the door beside several other pairs. I count them, and apparently the gang’s all here already.

Eren snorts. “Not waiting for you, that’s for sure. And,” he shrugs, “everything’s fine. Same as always.”

We drop the grocery bags on the kitchen counter and go down the flight of stairs that leads to the basement-turned-tv-room, where we can be as loud and obnoxious as we want without bothering Dr. Jaeger once he gets home. We talk on the way, about his college, my work; I tease him when he tells me about this one teacher who, he says, keeps giving him low grades unfairly. “He said I was late for his class twice, so he removed 0.1% from my grade per minute I missed. What the fuck kind of teacher does that?”

I’ll never say this aloud, but Eren is pretty okay. I used to hate him when we were younger, partly because our personalities clashed in the worst of ways (he was a hot headed little shit, I was a stuck up brat, I said something that pissed him off once and things escalated…), mostly because I could not believe Mikasa – the supremely gorgeous and intelligent goddess Mikasa whom I was crushing on hardcore – liked to hang out with that loser. And then I found out they were actually foster siblings, and puberty knocked some sense and maturity into Eren, and now we’re cool. Now I kind of admire him, to be honest.

 It was Eren who first brought up how Sina resembles a cage for humanity, and I guess I always felt like that but refused to allow myself to think like that too because it’s wrong and it’s risky, but fucking Jaeger had to talk about it openly in that stupid passionate and confident way of his, leaving no room for disagreement. His words didn’t slowly pull me out of my ignorance as much as they fucking kicked me out of it with enough force to make me see stars. But while I decided to wallow in the pointlessness of my existence and find myself a simple job right out of high school, abandoning my ambition and settling for living a mediocre life inside humanity’s glimmering cage, Jaeger (and by extension Mikasa and Armin, who’s like the third sibling or something) decided to go to college and learn about computer engineering, so that one day he could take down Sina.

And if you point out to him that if he fails, he’ll be hunted down by the Military Police and killed, you may watch in amazement as he calmly states that “it’s worth a shot. Sooner or later we all die anyway, might as well try dying for a worthy cause.”

That damn idealistic suicidal bastard and his damn moments of wisdom.

Down in the basement, everybody had already gotten comfortable, Ymir with Krista on a big, comfortable leather chair where they both could fit only because Krista was so tiny and they obviously had no need for personal space; Connie and Sasha are fighting over a cylindrical lime green pillow despite the sea of throw pillows they had already put together to lie on, and Armin and Mikasa took up a corner of the couch behind Connie and Sasha. Mikasa has one knee bent so her foot can rest on the couch while the other leg is stretched out so she can poke Sasha’s head with her bare toes, much to the girl’s dismay and Connie’s amusement. Armin just sits cross-legged, one arm on the armrest, the other which Mikasa is using as a pillow resting over the back of the couch. There’s just enough space beside them for Eren and me to settle into comfortably, which is what we do after I kick a pillow that hits Connie in the face not at all accidentally.

“Ha! Take that, baldie! Thanks, Jean!”

“Any time, Sasha. Seriously. It’s always a pleasure.”

Connie flips me the bird. “Wanna go, Kirstein? Mikasa’s on my side!”

I pick up another pillow from the floor and throw it at him again. “Mikasa’s not on your side, dumbass. She’s just against Sasha, there’s a difference.”

To prove my point, Mikasa stretches out her free leg and rubs her foot on Connie’s face, exactly like she’s doing to Sasha. “Jean’s right, Connie.”

Among the laughter – and Sasha’s shrieks when Mikasa proceeds to attack her with both feet – I feel someone tugging my finger over the back of the couch. I look at the hand pulling mine, then at Armin, who has a soft, almost unconscious smile on his face. “Hey, Jean, did Pixis bring you any new books recently?” he asks.

Ah, yes. Armin is my special customer, the one who likes books about fantastical things or the outside world. “Blond, bright, blue-eyed”, remember?

“Yeah, he brought some last week. What are you looking for this time?”

“Um… Did he bring any geography books?”

I look at the ceiling, trying to remember. Truth is, when I started on the job two years ago, Pixis usually brought to the store a dozen books every couple of weeks, but now when he shows up once month, he only brings half a dozen new items at most. Soon enough he won’t be bringing any books at all, and Armin’s gonna run out of interesting reading material.

But I remember Pixis had a blue book with torn edges and a big black and white creature on the cover the last time he visited…

“Nope, sorry.” Armin nods, disappointment obvious on his features, so I hastily add, “But there’s a new one about sea creatures.” And that’s the magic word: sea. His smile is only marginally wider than the previous one but his eyes light up like sheer electricity has just passed through his body. For all his maturity and intelligence, Armin can be simply fucking adorable sometimes. (No homo.) (Well, maybe a little bit of homo.)

“Thanks, Jean! I’ll pick it up sometime next week, then.”

I smile back at him on reflex, because that’s the effect Armin has on people, and say, “No problem, dude.”

I have _almost_ forgotten that Ymir and Krista are in the room, but before that can happen Ymir calls me with a, “Yo, Kirstein!” and I whip my head around to look at her. Krista gives me a small smile in lieu of a proper greeting (not that we need one, in this group. We all have been together long enough to know that none of us foregoes things like greetings or goodbyes due to impoliteness, but because we’re just as comfortable without those formalities as we are with them) and I respond with a small wave. “Where’s the food? Don’t be a waste of oxygen, get off your ass and go make me a sandwich,” Ymir demands with a fake-but-convincing scowl on her face.

“Yeah, Jean, where’s the food?” Sasha echoes, eyes wide, clearly unamused at the lack of food in here but excited at the possibility of change in that situation.

“The food’s in the kitchen. If you’re so hungry you can go pick it up yourself, I’m not your fucking maid,” I say, crossing my arms and frowning despite not being actually angry.

Ymir smirks. “Oh, I’m aware. If you were my maid you’d be wearing the sexiest maid outfit, not jeans and a hoodie you’ve been wearing since 8th grade.”

Beside me, Eren scoffs. “No uniform in the whole world that could make Jean look sexy, Ymir. He would just look like a bigger idiot than usual.”

Why, that little shit. “That’s because I don’t need clothes to look sexy, Jaeger, fuck you very much. The reason I wear clothes is to tone down the sexy, in fact. We can’t have weak, horny shits like you going around popping boners all the time, after all.”

“Bullshit,” Connie mutters, masking it with a cough.

Sasha does the same, except it’s, “Prove it.”

 _Why, these little shits._ But a challenge made is a challenge fucking accepted and I’m already pulling my hoodie up along with my t-shirt, ready to put on a real show for these plebeians when Krista shrieks. I stop, holding my clothes halfway off my body, position awkward as hell, and turn around to see Ymir covering Krista’s eyes with her hands like a mother protecting her child from an indecent sight.

“Kirstein, put your clothes back on, you bastard! Save your exhibitionism kink for when there aren’t real ladies in the room!”

Krista pouts, though, and covers Ymir’s hands with her own, attempting to remove them. “Ymir,” she drawls, “But I want to see!”

Ymir’s eyes widen comically and I’m still here looking like an idiot with my clothes and hands over my head… “You want to see Kirstein’s hairy man boobs and his love handles?! Krista, no!” Ymir practically yells.

“Hey I don’t ha—“ I’m trying to protest because hey, I don’t have man boobs, what the fuck?! But I’m cut off by Sasha, who says, “Jean’s boobs aren’t very hairy, don’t worry, Ymir.” And as if that wasn’t enough, Connie follows with a comment about my childhood, when I was indeed a bit chubby.

After that everyone seems to have something to add about my body, and instead of wondering and worrying about when the hell did these lunatics see me naked, I let my clothes fall back over my torso and just raise my hands in defeat. I already know that the more I protest, the worse (and louder – _especially louder_ ) they get. “This is a fucking zoo, I’m out. I’m gonna go get the food – not that anybody can hear me.”

I get up and leave the basement, Armin only a couple of steps behind me. When I turn around and tilt my head up as if to ask what are you doing? he shrugs and says, “The drinks are still in Connie’s car.” I nod and keep walking. When he’s at the door I tell him to come back and call me if the drinks are too heavy but he snorts and reminds me that he is not, in fact, a total weakling and he’ll be fine.

It’s when I’m looking for clean bowls in the cabinet under the sink, taking some glasses and setting them on the floor so I can reach those bowls that are behind them that I hear a weird little sound, like a loose tile moving. I frown a bit, grab a pile of bowls quickly, and put the glasses back in the cabinet one by one. As I pick up one of them I hear that sound again. It’s only half of a tile, but it’s definitely loose. I know it’s probably nothing and I should just leave it be, but… I don’t know… I stare at that half tile, and it stares back at me. I touch one of its corners and it makes that faint sound again. I sigh. What the hell am I doing. Just leave it alone, Kirstein. It’s just a loose tile, for fuck’s sakes! But nope, my body apparently has its own agenda because my hand is already moving, my fingers stretching and curling, my nails already in friction against the gritty surface of the tile that should be still stuck to the floor. I manage the raise the piece a little and slide it to the side, revealing a hole in the ground, only deep and wide enough to contain a small leather-bound notebook.

And now I know, I know I should slide the tile back and get the fuck out of there. Armin might come back any second, and this is none of my business, but there’s a notebook. In the ground. Under a tile. I’m fucking curious, sue me.

I pick up the notebook and open it at a random page.

I say “random”, but soon enough I’ll learn that nothing is “random” in this universe.

But at this exact moment I’m still ignorant to the peculiarities of the universe and still think coincidences are nothing but that, which doesn’t affect my surprise when I find a loose piece of blue paper inside the notebook, neatly folded into a square. Putting the notebook aside, I unfold the little blue square, and my eyes widen at what I see. It’s a blueprint of Sina, its outer walls – or rather, wall, since according to this paper the city is actually a circle – and the government’s main building, which everyone calls Mitras, where the military leaders and the King live right in the middle of the city, depicted meticulously in thick white lines, with thinner lines connecting one structure to the other at several different points, some lines overlapping, others seeming perfectly straight. Someone wrote “Security system – Alarms” above a white arrow pointing to the thin lines, and “Security system – Cameras” above a red arrow pointing to one of several small red dots spread across the map like stars in the night sky (which I have never seen).

I don’t know what to do with this… It’s the first time I see something like this, information about the innerworkings of Sina usually strictly forbidden to civilians and lower ranks of the military (the more ignorant the people, the easier to manipulate and the easier to avoid threats to the government). I briefly wonder how this blueprint could have ended up in the Jaegers’ house and if Eren and Mikasa are the ones responsible for it, but I don’t have time for these thoughts. Now I have to figure out what to do with this. Or maybe I’ll save the decision making for later. For now I settle for fishing my phone out of my pocket, pressing the tip of my index finger on one side and taking several photos of the paper.

Once I’m done, I fold the paper back into its original square shape, put it back inside the notebook and leaf through the other yellow-ish pages, searching for more information about the city, taking a photo of anything I find relevant. I’m only halfway into the notebook when I hear the front door open. I jump at the noise, heartbeat going crazy fast and almost deafening. I scramble to put my phone away, put the notebook back in the ground just like I found it, and slide the tile back in place. I have time to put the last glass back in the cabinet before Armin shows up in the kitchen carrying 7 grocery bags.

“Wow,” I say, hoping I sound normal and not like I just ran a marathon. Or, you know, found information about our oppressive city that could be considered as burn-after-reading hella classified to the extreme cubed in a hole in my friends’ kitchen.

Armin winces. “Yeah, they went a little overboard. There’s about 6 cans of soda and 3 bottles of beer for each of us. We’re gonna have to take a lot of bathroom breaks this time.”

I chuckle and shake my head. “Well, take the drinks down to the basement. I’ll come down with the food in a bit.”

Armin balks, glances from me to the food, then the bowls now on the kitchen table, then back at me. After seconds of silence he just asks, “Did you forget where the bowls were?” And I release a breath I didn’t even notice I was holding before nodding and mumbling a “yes”.

Satisfied, Armin exits the kitchen, and so do I a little later after I distribute 4 bags of popcorn into 4 different bowls and arrange them on a tray Eren and Mikasa keep beside the fridge that we always use for movie night along with bags of sweets and other snacks and peace offerings for Sasha’s belly monster.

I spend the rest of the evening in a haze, only half attentive to the things around me. My eyes see everything but struggle to assimilate even the simplest of things, from the motions of Eren’s hands as he selects the movie from the TV menu to the credits at the end of the movie. I figure I shouldn’t get so worked up about a blueprint because it’s not like I can do anything with it. I mean, what could I possibly do? Burn everything down? Destroy the wall that separates our world from the outside? Pull a Jaeger and attempt and likely fail to destroy the system? I’m just a bookshop manager. I sell adventures, not participate in them.

So why do I feel so worked up? Why is there something akin to static in the back of my mind?

By the time I make it into my apartment I have already decided to let it go. _It’s just the change in routine_ , I tell myself. _Nothing like this will ever happen again. You will forget all about it soon, Jean._

I sleep as peacefully as always that night.


	2. Hey, Marco

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _"When he’s gone, I take a few moments to recapitulate our meeting. This new fortune teller on the block is an open book, believes in the goodness of people, can’t explain things worth shit, and has a lot of different smiles. He’s honest, and probably gullible._
> 
> _And I ignored him at first, then insulted his job, said his friend and co-worker is weird, and put an end to our conversation because I felt jealous of him and stopped to think about myself like the self-centered dick that I can be._ Way to go, Kirstein. Keep it up and you’ll be dead with no one wanting to attend your funeral in no time. _But despite all that, Marco still wants to see – and hopefully talk – to me again."_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the relatively short chapter. It was supposed to be longer but I decided to leave Jean's first experience with tasseography for the next one because I thought the story would be more organized this way?

A few days pass, and I follow my usual routine, sell books to the usual customers, avoid thinking of blueprints and security systems and the schedule of military personnel and does this have anything to do with Eren’s crazy plans? Is he in danger? Am I? _Stop, Jean. Just drop that shit right now._

It’s already late afternoon on Friday when Marco walks into the shop for the second time. Armin came in earlier, having come straight from college, and we’re sitting on the floor looking at the marine biology book when the door opens.

I look up, a little smile making its way onto my lips when I see who it is. “Hey, Marco. What happened to ‘soon’, hm?”

He glares and points a finger at me. “ _You_ were supposed to go see _me_ , Jean.” Then he turns to Armin and his expression is back to its usual cheery friendliness. “Hi there.”

Armin smiles in return and sends him a little wave. “Hello.”

“Marco, this is Armin, the biggest and blondest bookworm to ever exist; Armin, this is Marco, and he’s the fortune teller that works across the street.”

Armin’s eyes widen a little and he sounds excited when he says, “I’ve never met a fortune teller before.

Marco walks over to us and drops down to the ground immediately, forming a triangle with me and Armin. “I suppose fortune tellers are a bit rare nowadays,” Marco says, sounding a little sheepish.

“And you’re so…” Armin pauses, eyebrows knotting, “… Young.”

Marco blinks at him. “Uh… yeah?”

Armin’s cheeks tinge with red and he stutters a little when he tries to explain himself. “I-I mean! It’s just – Uh… I mean, in books, fortune tellers are always, um, old men with beards or – or women, so…”

Marco’s expression softens, and I think it’s on instinct, to make anyone feel comfortable and safe around him. (Forgiving. That’s another adjective I should add to Marco’s description.) It works; the blush on Armin’s cheeks fade and he chuckles. “Sorry,” he says.

Marco shakes his head and waves a hand. “It’s fine. You read a lot?”

At that, I snort. “Armin here,” I begin, as I hold the blond guy’s shoulder, “has read more books than you and I and possibly the entire street combined. He’s read every single fantasy, scientific fiction, history and world geography book in this shop and then some.”

I’m sure I’m beaming like a proud parent as I state that. But so the fuck what? I am proud of Armin, he’s the most intelligent kid in all of Sina, I’d bet. And I’m proud of being his friend. A below-average-in-everything guy like me doesn’t deserve the company of a genius like him, I’m sure. And yet, he comes every week – sometimes twice in the same week – to hang out with me even when I don’t have any new books to offer him.

Here’s a fact about me: I’m not a people person. Sometimes I’m not even a humanity person. And I don’t have anyone I’m particularly close to. Sure, I have Connie, Sasha and Armin as my closest and best friends, but Connie and Sasha sometimes make me feel like a third wheel (not intentionally or anything – in fact, they never actually make me feel like a third wheel when I’m with them... but that’s exactly why I feel like a third wheel? Does that make sense? It’s all in my head, I guess) and Armin is… well. He’s the head in the body where Mikasa is the powerful torso and Eren is the legs that allow it to move, and they form a perfect unit together.

So you see. I have friends. But often I’m that kid feeling alone in the crowd, which, if anything, makes me value the friends I have even more. It makes me feel protective of them. They don’t have to hang out with me, but they still choose to do that. It’s better to be lonely in a crowd of people who notice you than be lonely alone.

That’s what I believe in, anyway.

So yeah, I’m proud of Armin, and protective as hell. I don’t think Marco would ever try to hurt him (or anyone, honestly) and Armin may not look like it but he’s capable of defending himself most of the time, but habits are habits. I let my pride show mostly because it’s true, but partly as a challenge. Like I’m saying _,“Yes, he reads a lot, and yes, he looks delicate, and yes, he’s not the strongest guy. Got a problem, asshole?”_

Armin gets annoyed at that sometimes. But it could be worse; I could be Jaeger.

 _Oh yeah_ , Jaeger is a dozen times worse when it comes to Armin. Apparently he grew up having to save Armin from bullies, so protecting the guy became a second nature.

Armin brushes some of his blond hair behind his ear and nods. “It’s true. I read a lot.” His nose scrunches up a little. “Maybe too much.”

I move my hand from his shoulder to his hair and give a ruffle that makes Armin duck away from my hand and pat his hair to get it back in place. He misses a spot and some of his hair sticks up. I don’t tell him that, and neither does Marco. In fact, Marco’s eyes keep moving from Armin’s face to mine like he’s trying to figure out a puzzle.

“Nothing wrong with doing a lot of something you enjoy, man. You’re always overworking yourself because of college and stuff, it’s okay to reward yourself with things you enjoy once in a little while.”

“I think Jean’s right,” Marco says, then: “Hey, can you recommend me some books, Armin?”

The blond perks up at that. “Yeah, sure! What kind of books do you like?”

“Wait,” I say. I stand up, dust the back of my pants, then go behind the counter. I squat down to retrieve a key from a small metal drawer at the bottom. When I stand up again, Armin and Marco are already on their feet. I give the key to Armin (an old-fashioned metal one instead of a card. Pixis believes the government is monitoring all locks in Sina that require cards so an old-fashioned key is a safer option. I’d love to say the man’s old age has gotten to him, but once you learn about everything the government hides from us and read enough stories about fictional places so idyllic as ours that turn out to be hellish and rotten, every conspiracy theory is valid) but I’m looking at Marco when I say, “Take whatever you want, but don’t take too many at once. Those are the expensive books and Pixis is gonna be pissed if I can’t sell them because a friend borrowed them. Oh yeah, if you ever see Pixis – tall, bald, old, thin but strong, looks like a nice grandpa and a scary general at the same time – don’t tell him about this at all,” I narrow my eyes, “unless you have something against me, in which case, Marco, I promise I’ll come back to haunt your ass when he kills me.”

Marco nods. “Got it, got it and got it.”

Armin pushes aside a cushion to unlock the hidden compartment and pulls up the seat, revealing neatly organized but old, worn books, and the way he looks at them reminds me of pirate stories grandpa used to tell me. Armin looks like a pirate opening a chest full of precious, stolen, illegal gold. It’s almost funny how close that is to reality; Armin is a boy opening a loveseat full of precious, stolen, illegal books. No changes there but the nouns.

Marco releases a low “woah” and I go find a broom and cleaning materials. For the next hour and a half my friends sit together and talk about different books and stories and I clean the place, saying “That one sucks, put it away” “The characters are fucking annoying but the story is great” “Oh, I love that one, it’s so good” “Armin stop ranting about the Dead fucking Sea” and other useless things once in a while.

When 8:30 hits, Armin’s phone rings and the call automatically connects when he brings the gadget to his ear. A minute later the call ends and Armin explains he has to leave or he’ll be late for dinner with his grandpa. He leaves with the marine biology book and Marco stays.

“Is it really okay if I borrow this book? I can pay, you know,” Marco says, holding up a thick book that I recognize as one I had mentioned half an hour ago. I said it it’s one of my favorites, with stories about a king named Arthur and his knights. It is also one of the most expensive books in Pixis’s collection.

I wave my hand. “No, it’s fine, just bring it back someday.”

Marco looks at the ceiling with a thoughtful look on his face. “Or,” he says eventually, “you could go pick it up.”

I stifle a groan. “Or, you could return it to me here.”

“You still owe me a visit, Jean.”

I roll my eyes and am about to ask him why he’s so adamant I go to his shop, but Marco speaks again before I can do it.

“Unless you don’t want to, I mean,” he says. He’s looking at the wall now with an intensity I am sure walls don't deserve, and his voice is a little softer than before. Overall he looks like a child whose lollipop was just taken from them and it’s my fault. _Wow, Jean, what next? Gonna kick some puppies? I should have just said yes, Marco, I’ll go to your fucking shop. It’s like 20 feet away, why didn’t I go earlier?_ “If you don’t want to then that’s fine, I won’t ask again, I’m sorry for bothering you.”

He’s looking at me now, his eyes painfully sincere, his eyebrows and lips betraying his disappointment because Marco’s body is sincere even when his self doesn’t want to be.

“No! No no no! You’re fine, Marco. Really, you’re far from being a bother. Look... I’m a little stubborn and I don’t do too well in unfamiliar places but I’ll go pick up the book and pay you that visit –“ and here’s where I speak without thinking “—and do the tea leaves fortune reading thing. Just… You’re not bothering me. At all.”

Marco’s expression returns to its usual cheery state and he says, “Great! Levi comes in every Tuesday so I’ll book you for uh… Is 2pm alright? Or 1pm? When is your lunch break?”

 _Oh damn, what have I done_. I shake my head. “2pm is fine. Can you really finish the book until then?”

Marco smirks. “Don’t think so. You will have to come again some other day.”

I sigh in defeat but smirk back at him. “Fine. I’ll do it.”

Marco’s smirk morphs into a smile and I want to rub my face with my hands because this is the second time I see this man and he already defeated me with puppy eyes. I must be going soft, and that's not necessarily a good thing.

Marco stays with me until I'm done cleaning and closing the shop. Once outside he wishes me goodnight and walks away, turning around to wave at me one last time when he reaches the end of the street. I watch him until he's gone from my sight and only then start walking away from the shop in the opposite direction from Marco. On my way home I think of: the strange days I've been having, Eren Jaeger, secrets, and strange shapes made out of moist tea leaves.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> YAY FOR MARCO that sweet angel  
> anNNNND YAY FOR ARMIN that other sweet angel
> 
> again, i hope this wasn't utter shit.
> 
> now, who's excited for fortune teller!Levi?


	3. A hot cup of future, 2 sugars, some death, no milk.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _He’s chewing so instead of words he only makes a “Hm?” noise._
> 
> _“We’ll be late for your friend if we don’t get out of here like right now.”_
> 
> _He winces a little and swallows audibly. “Shit. Levi hates everyone on principle but he really hates people who show up late for their sessions.”_
> 
> _I level him a glare even as I shove the rest of my fries into my mouth, not even caring that I must look disgusting. “You know, the more you speak about this guy, the less I wanna meet him,” I say with my mouth full._
> 
> _“Don’t worry, Jean, he won’t try to eat you.” He can’t smile or smirk while chewing but his eyes crinkle and I fucking hate the way my heart dares to skip a beat at the sight of this guy speaking with his mouth so full he almost looks like a chipmunk if chipmunks had less hair and more freckles. “He might try to kick your ass, though.”_
> 
> _I shrug. “I’m a good fighter, I think I can handle him if it comes to that.”_
> 
> _“Oh, Jean…” Marco just shakes his head, stands up and reaches across the table to pat my head. “Nope. Not a chance.”_

Faster than I’d like, Tuesday arrives and I can’t help but glance at the digital clock on the wall beside the counter all the time. Even worse, I try not to look at it, I try really hard, but when I turn away from it it’s like I can feel its presence behind me and that feeling takes over my mind. I’m weak and I whip my head around. 12:34. _Last time I checked it was 12:32. This can’t be right?!_ The bright blue numbers are mocking me and part of me wants to put my fist through their glow.

And then I remember that they’re just numbers in a clock and there is no one in the shop besides myself.

Okay, this is ridiculous. What am I even getting anxious for? I don’t believe in clairvoyance, in seeing the future in tea cups or in flames, so this shouldn’t matter. But I am just so curious, and it doesn’t matter that I don’t believe this crap, what if the guy (Levi? I think?) says something like “Uh-oh, Mr. Kirstein, you’re gonna be eaten by a giant man-eating creature next week and your death will be slow and painful inside its stomach, drowning and burning in the creature’s stomach acid while all your limbs float around you. That’s really too bad… Now, are you ready to make your payment?” I’m not gonna be able to sleep for weeks. To me mental images were always more troubling than the veracity of their possible existence, to be honest.

My thoughts of all the terrible things that could be said this afternoon are interrupted by the door opening, a gust of cold wind (it’s too windy today, the vents must be broken…) invading the shop and hitting me in the face.

“I’m here to make sure you’re not going to bail,” Marco says, leaning against the door and smiling.

I harrumph at him. “Have a little faith, Marco. I told you I’d go, didn’t I? And Jean Kirstein never breaks a promise.”

Marco blinks at me. “Kirstein?”

“Yeah, that’s my last name. Does that matter?”

He blinks again then shakes his head. “No, it’s nothing. Jean Kirstein…” he says, prolonging the “an” and “ir” sounds. “It sounds good,” he adds.

I never thought of my name like that, but the way Marco says it does make it sound nice…

“Whatever,” I say and my dumb, traitorous eyes find that annoying clock again. 12:52. “Hey, Marco, did you eat before coming here?” I ask, already removing the black apron with PIXIS’ logo on it.

“Not really,” he says sheepishly.

“Then come on, let’s get something to eat.”

“Yeah, we can’t find out about your future on empty stomachs, right?” he chuckles. I punch his shoulder lightly and he moves out of the way so we can leave the shop right after I flip the door sign to “CLOSED”. (What Pixis doesn’t see, Pixis doesn’t feel, right?!)

I end up taking Marco to the cafe Sasha and Connie work at, namely The Rose Cafe, which is where I usually go during lunch anyway since it’s only a couple of blocks away. The place is a rather popular spot for the people who work nearby like me as the food tends to be good and inexpensive. Not to mention, the place itself looks like something out of a fairytale; light colored wood panels cover the walls outside and the floors inside, turning it into a spot of warmth between all the metal, glass and concrete surrounding it. The lighting is set in a yellowish tone that emphasizes the comforting atmosphere, much like the plants cascading down the walls, and the brown seats in the small booths are comfortable enough to sleep on. I chance a look at Marco when we walk in and he looks a little awed, a lot pleased, eyebrows up to his hairline, mouth slightly open. I smirk.

“Nice fish impression, Marco.”

He brings himself back to reality by blinking a few times, then he smiles. “Shut up,” he says.

We take our seats in a booth right in the middle of the café and I look around, searching for –

“Jean!”

– That.

Every day I’m greeted by that loud voice and that hand that I’m surprised hasn’t yet gotten detached from Sasha’s body with the way she waves it so enthusiastically. It’s a part of my routine that I don’t really mind, though I still cringe a bit when she yells my name and every patron who’s not a regular at this hour looks at me.  It’s hard to give off the impression of mature and hardass when you have a Sasha for a friend. When there’s a Connie around it’s even worse, but that only happens when the cafe is empty and Connie has nothing to do in the kitchen, and since the cafe is never empty, we’re safe. I think. You never really know with these two idiots.

She walks over to us, smiling and completely ignoring a patron’s “could I have another coffee, please” and the raised hand that came with the request. She also ignored his annoyed “hey!”

“Hey, you,” I say, ruffling her hair, as I always do.

She doesn’t swat my hand away or even try to flatten her messed up hair; instead she zeroes in on Marco and raises her eyebrows so quickly they might have been able to travel back in time if they hadn’t stayed stuck to her face.

“No way,” she gasps, “You have company? One that we haven’t seen before? Oh my goddess, could it be you’re becoming… you know…” her voice lowers to a stage whisper and she comes closer so her mouth is right beside my ear “… _sociable_?”

“Fuck off,” I grumble as I shove her face away.

“I’m Sasha,” she says, extending her hand.

Marco shakes it quickly. “Marco.”

As soon as he lets go of her hand, she carelessly drops the holographic menu on the table (it flickers as the cylinder at the base rolls against the tabletop and Sasha’s boss would probably have her head if she saw her employee be so careless with such expensive technology) slides beside him on the cushioned seat and props her elbow on the table to support her head with her hand. “So, Marco…”

She sounds like one of those bad cops from TV shows and the guy shoots me a wide-eyed scared look. I roll my eyes. “Don’t worry, she’s not gonna eat you. Probably.” I point a finger at her and frown. “Sasha, don’t try to eat Marco.”

“Hey! I don’t eat people!”

I scoff. “Yeah, right. I remember that time in Jaeger’s house when you tried to eat me, you know?”

She slams her hands on the table. “I didn’t try to eat you! I was sleeping, Jean!”

“How is trying to eat people when you sleep better than trying to eat people when you’re awake?”

“Wait, you actually tried to eat Jean?” Marco asks, looking even more scared than before.

Sasha grabs his t-shirt and shakes her head viciously. “No! Don’t listen to him, Marco! Jean’s lying! I swear I didn’t try to eat anyone!”

“Yes, you did! We were watching a movie and then I feel this pain in my arm, when I look down this girl was fucking chomping and drooling on it.”

“I told you I was asleep! Ugh!”

I roll my eyes before I turn to Marco. “That’s how we found out Sasha eats when she’s sleepwalking. But she did try to eat me, so I’d scoot away if I were you.”

Sasha throws her hands up and stands. “No. Nope. Not dealing with this today. I give up.”

She walks away towards the kitchen and I can hear her grumble to herself something along the lines of “I swear, you try to eat someone one time…”

“Uh… That was… interesting,” Marco says, smiling slightly and looking relaxed once again.

My disbelief translates into a shake of my head and my amusement into a smirk. “You really are too nice, Marco.”

After that, Marco and I pick up the menu and place our orders by tapping on the hologram. As we wait for the food he comments on the contrast between Armin and Sasha – the only two of my friends he’s met so far. I tell him about our little group of friends and how everybody’s so different from each other.

(“Are you sure you’re not talking about yourself there, Jean?” he teases me when I tell him about Eren.

 If Marco weren’t Marco, I’d punch him in the face.

“Shut up, freckles.”)

Instead of Sasha it’s Franz who brings us our food (sandwich and fries for me, an omelet with cheese, mushrooms and tomatoes for Marco), saying, “Sasha’s too busy stealing food from the pantry to come out and do her job so hey, Jean. Nice to meet you, Marco. Connie says Mikasa asked him yesterday to ask you if you’ve seen Dr. Jaeger at all this week, by the way, since she can’t reach you on your phone.”

I frown, trying to remember when I last saw Dr. Jaeger. I see him every morning, so his absence is not easy to overlook. However, it’s not the first time Dr. Jaeger is absent from my routine for more than a day – every once in a long while he has to go to this event for big name doctors across the city and it always lasts a few days. If Mikasa doesn’t know where he is, though…

I remove my phone from my pocket, the transparent screen brightening up and becoming merely see-through with all the info being displayed. I check the call log and there are no missed calls from Mikasa (or Eren, for that matter).

“3 days ago,” I finally tell Franz.

He nods. “I’ll let him know,” he says, then frowns, “I hope nothing bad’s happened.”

I hum in agreement, and for some reason my phone feels abnormally heavy in my hand.

“Anyway, I’ll see you later, Jean,” the waiter says in a brighter tone. He smiles at Marco, too. “Come back again, Marco. And be patient with this guy,” he points at me with his thumb, “try not to kill him or anything.”

Marco laughs and says, “I’ll try, but no promises” at the same time that I say, “Fuck off,” for the second time that day.

We eat in silence for awhile until Marco asks, “Um… is Dr. Jaeger your friend Eren’s father?”

“Yeah. You know him?”

He shakes his head. “Not really. Should I?”

I shrug. “He’s kind of famous, I guess, in his field, so a lot of people know him by name at least.”

“I see. You think he’s in trouble?”

I didn’t expect Marco to ask me that. He doesn’t know Eren or Mikasa or the doctor. Why would he even ask something like that if he doesn’t know shit about who he’s talking about? I’m not exactly angry, but that unexpected bluntness bothers me, not gonna lie.

“Why do you ask?”

And I know my voice doesn’t hide my emotions when he breaks eye contact for a moment, sounds coy as he says, “I’m sorry; it’s none of my business. But you keep glancing at your phone since that guy left, so I just…”

“No, I don’t.”

He finally looks straight at me again. “Yes, you do.”

“Pretty sure I don’t, Marco.”

“Uh, I’m very, very sure you do, Jean. You’ve looked at that screen like 10 times in the past 15 minutes and – There, you just did it again!”

Ah, fuck. Fuck, yeah I just looked at the screen and I wouldn’t have noticed it if Marco hadn’t pointed it out. But that’s not even the problem here; the problem is I don’t know why I keep looking at the phone.

I had forgotten about them already.

The fucking –

“It’s nothing, Marco. He just – he mentioned Mikasa had called but there are no missed calls, so… yeah, just wondering about that.”

Marco blinks. “Oh. Okay. Are you sure that’s all?”

I nod. “Yeah.”

My eyes betray me yet one more time and I glance at the screen, but this time I am fully aware of it. Large numbers tell me it’s already 1:58pm. “Oh shit, Marco,” I say.

He’s chewing so instead of words he only makes a “Hm?” noise.

“We’ll be late for your friend if we don’t get out of here like right now.”

He winces a little and swallows audibly. “Shit. Levi hates everyone on principle but he really hates people who show up late for their sessions.”

I level him a glare even as I shove the rest of my fries into my mouth, not even caring that I must look disgusting. “You know, the more you speak about this guy, the less I wanna meet him,” I say with my mouth full.

“Don’t worry, Jean, he won’t try to eat you.” He can’t smile or smirk while chewing but his eyes crinkle and I fucking hate the way my heart dares to skip a beat at the sight of this guy speaking with his mouth so full he almost looks like a chipmunk if chipmunks had less hair and more freckles. “He might try to kick your ass, though.”

I shrug. “I’m a good fighter, I think I can handle him if it comes to that.”

“Oh, Jean…” Marco just shakes his head, stands up and reaches across the table to pat my head. “Nope. Not a chance.”

* * *

 

“You’re late,” is the first thing Levi says in my presence.

Beside me, Marco sighs. “It’s only 3 minutes, Levi.”

Levi gets up from the very comfortable looking couch he had been occupying and reaches us in two small steps. The space really is tiny (a little bigger than I imagined), with only a red chair and a yellow couch pushed against a mauve wall and a long wooden coffee table in front of them. There is a metal shelf above the couch and 4 along the wall opposite the front door. There are several small, colorful boxes and a simple copper basin on the shelf above the couch; a different type of tea set and a stack of colorful metal cases of loose leaf tea on each of the other shelves, and an electric kettle (half-full, the water inside already boiling) on the bottom one. There’s a narrow door in the remaining wall as well.

My eyes focus on the short guy in front of me after they’re done taking in every little detail of this quaint little shop. His brows are slightly furrowed.

Levi has the pale, unblemished skin of a porcelain doll, and his dark hair, pristine white shirt and his collection of tea sets only accentuate his delicateness.

And then he opens his mouth again.

“Late and smelling like sweaty ass crack. Gross.”

As I stand there with my mouth hanging open, Mr. Rude Short And Fucking Rude turns around and picks up the items from the simplest tea set: a cream colored stoneware tea pot with light pink, watercolor-ish flowers on the lid, and three matching cups which he stacked to carry with a single hand.

Beside me, Marco has the gall to snicker. “Nice fish impression, Jean,” he said.

“Shut up.”

“Hey,” Levi calls, “Marco says we’ll be doing tasseomancy today, so choose the tea and take a seat. ”

“Um… It can be any tea?” I browse the collection, looking for something fruity (don’t you fucking laugh, fruity tea is the only type of tea that doesn’t taste like fresh piss) and hoping the guy will say it’s fine. As it turns out, there isn’t a brand’s name or any images on any of the tins, only a piece of paper stuck to one of their sides with adhesive tape. Each paper has a handwritten bulleted list describing the blend.

“Yeah, just be quick about it, the water is hot already.”

As I raise my hand to pick a yellow box (“ _Black. Orange. Peach. Clove. Cinnamon._ ”) I take a sneaky sniff at myself and…

“Ew.”

… yeah, I reek of sweat.

Marco comes up beside me and he’s grimacing as he says, “Yeah, we stink. Let’s not run next time.”

“If we hadn’t run then we would’ve been even later.”

He shrugs. “I’d rather Levi kill us for being late than for stinking, Jean.”

“Really?”

“Obviously,” Levi says as I bring him the tea and sit down beside him on the couch. He starts to prepare the tea, pouring the tea and hot water in the stoneware pot with fluid, efficient movements. “If you’re gonna be a corpse anyway, it would be better to be one that doesn’t smell like shit.”

He crosses his legs and settles back into the couch. “So, you’re the kid from PIXIS Marco told me about? How’s the old man doing?”

“Jean Kirstein, yeah. You know him?” I ask, surprised.

“Pixis is the one who told Levi about this place, actually,” Marco says. He sits down on the arm of the couch next to me. Luckily, the arms of the couch are flatter than usual and wide, so sitting on them can’t be uncomfortable.

My eyebrows furrow as I look at the short man. “He never said anything about you.”

“And he never said anything about you,” Levi replies, expression still stoic.

I break eye contact, deviating my sight to the tea set instead. I feel suddenly vulnerable and – I’m not gonna lie – just a little hurt… It may be childish of me to feel like that but you know, after grandfather’s death and my parents’ disappearance Pixis is the closest thing I have to a relative. Like a surrogate uncle or something like that. How stupid to assume he keeps me around because of something other than the friendship he had with my grandfather. How fucking childish.

It was a nice fantasy, though…

“Hey, kid.”

I look up back at Levi, startled out of my thoughts.

His face hasn’t changed at all in the past few minutes, like a porcelain mask, but his voice is gentler when he tells me, “Don’t read too much into it. Pixis doesn’t talk to anyone about anyone because he can’t. He runs a risky business so not talking about anyone to anyone is a way to keep himself and all of us safe if the shit hits the fan.”

I blink at him, then shift my gaze as I exhale. His explanation makes sense and it makes me feel relieved… I’m not 100% sure it’s the truth (positive scenarios are always so much harder to embrace than the negative ones) but I’m gonna hold on to it in silence.

Marco stretches an arm over the back of the couch and his fingers brush against my nape in a comforting little gesture that I don’t think was accidental. I shoot him a quick glance and lean back against the couch and closer to his arm.

The subject dies right there and I’m thankful. Levi and Marco are much quieter than any one of my usual company (Armin and Mikasa excluded) but silence around them is not at all uncomfortable; in fact, it’s the opposite. I’m (too quickly) getting used to Marco’s behavior, how he’s comfortable letting others lead the conversations and interactions, being more reactive than active, and I interpret his silence as something thoughtful, a way to give others time to absorb and adjust to any information that came up. I only just met Levi but it’s pretty obvious his silence is his own, because he doesn’t give a flying fuck if you want to talk or not.

This silence is nice. There’s no pressure to fill it. No oppressive demand to say something intelligent or something witty, to crack a joke or insult anyone.

Even when it’s broken, it’s only by the soothing sound of tea being poured into our cups. The smell of citrus and cinnamon pervades the air and gets stronger when Levi hands me my cup. Even as he does so he looks inside the cup, and I’m suddenly reminded that I’m not here just to hang out, I’m here to have my fortune read in a cup of tea.

There’s a ceramic pot on the coffee table that I hadn’t really noticed until Marco removes the lid to reveal the sugar that it’s inside. He stops, though, and looks at Levi.

“Uh… I think we need a saucer?”

Levi hums and nods. He gets up and takes the couple of steps needed to reach his shelves. He takes a single saucer from a different set with blue roses and silvery accents on porcelain and brings it to us, along with 2 spoons.

I thank him then pick up a spoon. I wait for Marco to dump 4 spoons of sugar in his tea (“That’s disgusting. You can’t even taste the tea,” Levi complaints) before I pour 1 and a half into my own drink. I stir it, then place the spoon upside down onto the saucer.

I wait for the liquid to stop swirling and the leaves to settle at the bottom of the cup before I take a sip. My eyes go wide.

“Holy shit, this is good.”

Levi’s lips curl upward gently. “You don’t fucking say. I made it. And I don’t make shitty tea.”

“He’s not lying,” Marco says. He’s holding his cup with both hands and his shoulders are hunched up. It looks like he’s cold but I know he’s not. The temperature today all over Sina is perfect. “Levi can make Earl Grey taste good. He’s a tea god. You’re a tea god, Levi.”

Naturally, he’s smiling, and I’m kind of surprised to see that Levi is straight up smiling back at him. Even his eyes are smiling. It’s bizarre and makes an ugly thing rear its claws inside my stomach. I shake off that feeling right away. I have no right to feel anything remotely similar to that.

“Hmm… I could pretend to be humble and deny that but yes. Yes, I am a tea god.” Levi shrugs one shoulder nonchalantly and drinks his tea. He holds his cup in a peculiar way that obscures his mouth so I can’t tell if he’s still smiling or not.

“Oh! Did you see the chocolate tea, Jean? That’s the best one. It’s so sweet.”

“Any tea is sweet when you put 4 spoons of sugar in it, dude.”

“Kirstein makes a valid point.”

“How can you even make tea out of chocolate? How is that possible?” I ask.

“With patience.”

“And tea god powers,” Marco adds.

I chuckle. “Mainly the tea god powers.”

After a few minutes of chatter I’m relaxed and my cup only has a little of the amber liquid left but Levi grabs my wrist before I can drink it. He takes the cup from my right hand and presses it into my left.

“Swirl the tea clockwise three times,” he orders.

I obey and he takes the cup from me again, then the saucer from the table. He stops for a moment.

“Kirstein, which spoon is yours?”

“That one,” I answer, pointing to the one that’s upside down.

He nods then proceeds to upend the teacup over the saucer. When he sets the cup upright again and places the saucer over the table he tells me, “If you don’t want Marco to hear anything, then say it.”

I shake my head. “Nah, he’s fine.”

“Are you sure, Jean? I can leave if you want me to, it’s ok – ”

Marco starts to get up but I shoot a hand out and grab his wrist to pull him down again. “Shut up, freckles. You’re fucking curious, aren’t you? And I’m only here because of you, anyway. I don’t mind.”

He sits back down. “Okay. Good.”

I turn back to Levi. “So? What do you see?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Call this chapter the calm before the storm if you will.  
> The plot thickens in the next one.  
> Also, is it just me or does Jean have a crush? HMMMMM?


	4. Forked line

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _"He smiles at me, I open the doors to PIXIS, we say our “I see you later”s and I have to say I’m in a great mood as life goes on. After days and days of talking to Marco I had barely scraped the surface of who he is and where he comes from, but today there was an immense progress in that area. I’m satisfied, pleased with myself and the Universe for this opportunity._
> 
> _Speaking of Universe, it’s in the middle of the night – hours after Marco returned the book, hours after I closed up the shop, hours after I received Levi’s weird message asking for Dr. Jaeger’s address – that the Universe decides to start the game._
> 
> _Its first move is a phone call at 3am."_

Levi shifts the cup in his hands a little, then spends a maddening 3 minutes just staring at it. I can’t quite contain my curiosity so I stretch my neck a little to peek over the rim – not that I’m able to interpret a single thing, but I still want to know what he’s looking at.

I was right. I don’t know shit about this.

I see a clump of leaves near the rim opposite to the handle, then I see smaller clumps that look like perfect fucking clumps of tea leaves. There’s a clump here and a clump there and look at that clumpy little clump right at the bottom!

I look at Levi and the motherfucker looks like he’s staring at the secret to life itself.

_How?_

“Sooo?” Marco drawls from behind me, and once I look at him I can see that he moved a bit forward as well and he’s fidgeting.

Levi doesn’t raise his head, just rolls his eyes to look at us. “There’s too many leaves in this shit, I need a fucking minute.”

It takes him 2 minutes to finally raise his head, fix his posture and sigh.

“Marco,” he says, “give us ten minutes.”

“But Jean said I—”

“Marco,” Levi insists.

I decide to intervene. “It’s okay if he stays, I already said I –”

“I know what you said, and I’m ignoring it. Marco, leave.”

“Whatever you have to say, Marco can –”

“It’s about your parents, you imbecile.”

At that, I balk. Levi gives Marco a look and I hear the rustle of fabric as he stands up. He rests a hand on my shoulder and quietly says, “I’ll be right outside.”

I follow him with my eyes as he leaves. Once the front door closes with a muted thump, I turn back to Levi, suddenly excited to hear what he has to say. It’s been years, more than a decade, even, since anyone spoke to me about my parents. My memories of them are already a little faded, but my curiosity and frustration in regards to their disappearance have never changed or diminished.

“What about them?” I ask, sounding maybe a little more excited than I’d like.

“Sorry, kid. I lied. I needed to get Marco out of the room and knew he would leave if family was mentioned.”

I get angry at him for lying about a sensitive subject, but my disappointment is like a bucket of water and puts out that fire instantly. Now I just feel deflated and a little silly for even getting my hopes up. Honestly, if not even grandfather or Pixis could tell me about my parents, how could I hope for a stranger to do that? _Just because he claims to be able to see people’s futures in tea leaves? How embarrassing, Jean._

“His parents are gone, too,” Levi says after a moment of silence.

I frown. “What happened?”

“Same thing that happened to yours, probably.”

I stare at him, that inscrutable mask back in place, stoic and oh-so-punchable. I’m confused and frustrated and I can already feel a headache forming. “ _What happened?_ ” I demand.

Instead of answering, he stalls by picking up the teacups, stacking them, depositing the spoons inside the one at the top, then placing the whole thing on the saucer. His hand lingers on the saucer and I hear him mumble a “ _fuck it_ ” before he straightens up once again.

“I was trying to find a nice way to say this, but there isn’t one. They’re dead. Your parents and his. And that,” he nods towards the teacups, “tells me you’re going to get some more bad news about someone close to you soon. Knowing you’re a Kirstein who hangs out with Pixis and now us, I wouldn’t be surprised if that meant another disappearance.”

A weight settles in my stomach as a connection is made in the back of my mind. “Actually… Is it possible that I have already received that news?”

“Have you?”

“My friends’ father… He hasn’t been home nobody knows where he is. I’ve known him for a long time; he took care of my granddad when he was sick and his children are my friends, so I guess we’re close.”

“What’s his name?”

“Dr. Jaeger. No, wait, his name is –”

His eyes are uncharacteristically wide when he interrupts me. “Grisha Jaeger disappeared?”

No, Levi can’t know the doctor. Marco doesn’t so why would Levi know him? He can’t know. Because if he does, his action of rubbing his eyes and pinching the bridge of his nose, his whispered “ _fuck_ ”… they can only mean that he was right, someone did disappear, and I was right, it can only be Eren and Mikasa’s dad, and worst of all, he’s probably not coming home ever again.

“Fuck,” I exclaim and rub my eyes. “ _Fuck._ ”

“I’m going to tell you something important, brat,” Levi says, and I stop wondering _do I tell them – what do I say – is it 100% certain he won’t come back –_ to pay attention to him. “Marco and his parents were my neighbors years ago. My parents were never around so I used to spend a lot of time with the Bodts. Nobody in the sector liked them much; they had socially acceptable jobs, but it was no secret that they knew fortune telling and divination.

One day right before dinner, while Mrs. Bodt was in the kitchen, Marco came to me and told me he had seen someone grab his mother and cover her mouth while another person grabbed his father by the wrist and injected something in his arm. I told him his mother was in the kitchen and his father was on his way home, told him that was just a nightmare, but he said he had seen it in a candle. Marco was just a child but his mother had already taught him to scry and I’m not kidding when I say he’s damn good at it, especially when he uses fire – that’s when he never gets anything wrong.” He shrugs before he continues, “it’s weird but I guess he has an affinity with that shit or something. Maybe _he_ ’s just weird.”

It’s my turn to shrug. “Seeing the future in anything is weird, actually, but what matters is that he’s a good guy, right?

Levi looks at me and smirks. “Look at that, he’s already rubbing off on you.” He frowns a little and corrects himself, “Scratch that. You _wish_ he were rubbing off on you.”

I contain a (very manly) squeal and hope to all the gods out there that I’m not blushing. “What the hell? Dude, _no_.”

He points at the teacups and holy prickly cactus the urge to smash them all is intense. “Your mouth is telling me no, but my teacups are telling me yes.”

I glare at him and oh – yep, my face is hot. The gods have failed me. “Fuck you.”

He glares back at me and I can almost feel my manhood shrinking back into my body. “Say that again and I’ll ensure you won’t be able to fuck anything, ever.”

I put my hands up. “Yes, sir. Got it.”

Levi shakes his head and goes back to watching the super fascinating wall. “Back to the story, two days later the Bodts and I were in the Maria Park, the parents sitting on a bench talking to an old lady, the kid and I nearby, feeding a stray cat we found. I heard Mr. Bodt say, ‘I don’t understand why we can’t see the outside. Even if it’s dangerous, it must be better than living like a scientific experiment at the hands of the King and the MP.’

Not even ten minutes later I’m dragging Marco out of the woods he ended up chasing the cat into, and I have to stop to cover his eyes because there, daylight be damned, were two police officers shoving needles into his parents’ arms. They went limp, wide-eyed,  grey and very much fucking dead, and the old lady who was with them just kept on feeding the birds like there wasn’t a dead couple being dragged into a police car hovering right in front of her.

Then the old bitch said there were two kids with that couple and I knew I had to take Marco and run. We went to my house to pick up clothes and food and shit first, but then we left the sector.”

He takes a deep breath. “A year later your parents disappeared and it was all over the news because they were some high society people, right? And yet the Military People didn’t move a fucking finger to try to find them.”

“What about Dr. Jaeger?” I ask quietly. _What about your parents?_ I want to add, but my instincts tell me he wouldn’t appreciate the prying.

“I was one of his patients. About a year ago I ended up telling him the story I just told you because I trusted him and because it’s fucking obvious that Marco and I are not related even though I told the doctor years ago that we’re brothers. I mean, skin color, freckles, build –“

“Height,” I add.

Again, the ball-shrinking glare of death. “What?”

“ _Fight._ I said, fight. Marco says you can fight, he can’t. Uh. Yeah.”

“He’s right. Want me to prove it to you, Kirstein?”

“No,sir! I believe you!” _I like my balls the way they are right now, shrunk and all, sir,_ I add mentally.

“Anyway. I told him everything and soon after he started telling me about his plans. Every time we met, the man seemed a little more crazy but also a little closer to his goal.”

“Which is?”

He shakes his head and sniggers in anything but amusement. “Freedom. Old man Jaeger believed he could bring down Wall Sina and free humanity. He even said he had a map or something, with key information. I thought he was lying, but now…”

Now that weird static is back in my head and my stomach is full of ice.

_Do I tell him?_

_What do I do?_

_Do I do anything?_

_Don’t._

When that decision is made, I break the silence. “Marco doesn’t know him, though.”

 “I always told him I was going to see a doctor, but never said the doctor’s name. I’m not sure if the police are still looking for us even after 13 years but if they are, I don’t want anything connecting us, not even hospital files or a doctor’s testimony. We live together and work together but only because that doesn’t require anything that goes into Mitras’s database. It’s safer for the both of us like this.”

“Like Pixis,” I mutter.

Levi both nods and hums his agreement.

“But they… killed my parents, too… If they were after you then wouldn’t they be after me as well?”

“It’s probably because you weren’t there when they got taken away. I witnessed the whole shitshow and they know that because they couldn’t find me or the kid in the park afterwards. As far as they know, there are no loose ends in your case and you grew up to be just another sheep.”

Quietude befalls the room again, and in the silence I think of what was just said. I’m relieved to know that the government likely doesn’t have any interest in me, even if I am angry at knowing that my parents got taken away from me simply because they didn’t want to live like cattle. But about Marco and Levi, I’m not sure if taking all those precautions is completely necessary. Surely it wouldn’t be that bad if Marco knew the name of Levi’s doctor. What if there was an emergency? Where would Marco take this guy?

Oh.

He would take him to the hospital. He wouldn’t be able to say anything about Levi’s health. It would be like taking a stranger to the hospital, or a mere acquaintance.

Nobody would come close to thinking they’re related.

That’s actually smart.

But… isn’t it too smart? Too much? They practically forced themselves apart, forced themselves not to participate in the other’s life. They’re the complete opposite of Eren and Mikasa. Where these two had become inseparable siblings, Levi and Marco had made themselves acquaintances.

It sounds too lonely to me. And while I can imagine a teenager or young adult Levi thriving in such a situation, I can’t imagine a child Marco doing the same.

Suddenly, my appreciation for Marco’s gentle nature and constant smiles grow beyond that into respect.

My chest aches for that lonely child, however. I can only hope that Marco had his own rag tag family, like I did. Do, still. But I know that even if he did, nothing can make up for a lost family.

It’s strange, thinking that Marco and I have something in common after all.

When my thoughts make my lips curl downward and the silence becomes stifling, I clear my throat and push all the bad vibes away. “You know, I still want to know what you saw in my cup,” I ask.

“Scythe, coffin… there’s a lot of danger in your near future. You have to make a big decision, too, probably related to an important secret you’re keeping. There was an oyster as well, which means…” he trails off and shakes his head, “Fuck if I’m saying that one aloud. But it’s nothing bad. There was some other positive stuff, like a new friend and loyal friends. Some of it relates to the oyster, I bet. To sum it up, you’re going to do some obviously risky shit but you’re gonna have good company, and if the Universe doesn’t decide to change things up – and it does that sometimes – you’re not gonna die. That’s what I can tell you.”

“That’s… kind of vague.”

Levi frowns. “The fuck did you expect me to tell you? When and where you’re going to take your next shit and what it’s going to smell like? I see shapes in tea leaves, dumbass, not words in the big ass book of fate.”

“Well, I didn’t know _that_ before.”

Levi doesn’t even dignify my comment with a reply, he simply stands up and starts picking up the items on the table. He opens that door in the opposite wall and deposits the tea set in a sink inside that room. The sink is simple, rectangular in shape and made of steel. There are glass shelves underneath it, cluttered with cleaning products. Behind Levi I can see the edges of a black toilet.

He comes back for the teapot. “Our session ends here. Go tell Marco he can come in.”

I stand up but make no move to leave the room. Instead, I ask a question that should have popped sooner into my head: “Why did you tell me that story? You could have just said the Police was abducting and killing people who are openly against Sina.”

“I figured it was something you should know if you’re going to become a permanent fixture in Marco’s life. He should have someone else who knows that story for when I’m not around. He still has a hard time carrying that emotional baggage by himself but he would rather carry the full weight than dump half of it on someone else. I didn’t share our sob story for your sake, if that’s what you were thinking. If anything , I ensured that you will not leave that kid alone now.” I can’t see his face when he’s facing the sink and washing the tea set, but his voice rings loud and clear in the small space of the store.

His words make me uncomfortable. Not because I don’t want to know Marco’s history and definitely not because I don’t want to help him carry that weight. Actually, I’d be happy to give Marco any support he needs, but – “Marco’s nice and friendly, I’m sure he has more friends, people he’s closer to than me. I don’t know if I can do what you’re asking of me without screwing it up.”

“You won’t.  Stop being stupid, Kirstein. If I didn’t know you could do it I wouldn’t have said anything in the first place.”

“Did you see that in the tea leaves too?” I ask, albeit jokingly. It’s strange how his few, harsh words could reassure me. At the same time, it seems like he’s giving me the order to now screw up. Maybe that’s why it’s so reassuring… Because you have no choice but to follow an order, there’s no space for questioning authorities or self-doubt. You just do it. He’s ordering me to not fuck up, and I won’t.

Levi snorts. “I knew it before you stepped foot in here, kid. Now get out of here, Marco’s still waiting outside.”

“Don’t I have to pay you or something first?”

“You can pay me by shutting the fuck up and getting out of here. Seriously, I never said so many words in a single day, I’m exhausted.”

I shrug. “Alright. Thanks, Levi.”

He dismisses me with a short wave of his hand and I exit the store. I find Marco across the street, looking into PIXIS. I sneak up behind him and drop my hands on his shoulders while letting out short-lived yell right into his ear.

“HOLY SHIT! JEAN!” he yells at me while leaning against the glass window with a hand over his heart, definitely trying to calm it down after jumping 3 feet in the air.

“Oh my god – that jump – your face – hilarious” I wheeze out, out of breath after laughing so hard at my friend’s expense.

I can see Marco’s trying hard to keep the angry veneer but ultimately he fails and a chuckle comes out of his mouth. “You’re such a jerk. I almost died here.”

I laugh. “No, you almost took flight. What even was that? How can anyone jump like that? You should change your career, you know. Become a bas

“ _Jean_ ,” he chides, looking serious despite the lovely shade of red coloring his cheeks.

_Lovely?_

_What the fuck, Jean._

_But look at him…_

_Ah fuck it, that blush_ is _fucking cute and I’m still manly as hell._

“Yeah, okay. I am a jerk, whatever,” I admit, still smiling. “Better get used to it if you’re gonna stick around, freckles.”

Marco raises his eyebrows. “I might not want to stick around if you’re such a bully,” he says, but I know he’s joking when his lips curl into that familiar smile.

I wiggle a finger in front of his face. “You say that, but the tea leaves don’t lie, Marco.”

“What? There was something about me in your reading?”

I shrug. “I don’t know for sure… but Levi said I’m going to become, quote, ‘a permanent fixture’, unquote, in your life. So I’m guessing yeah.”

The blush is back on his cheeks now. “Levi said that, huh?”

“Yep.”

He averts my gaze quickly and becomes even redder, but seconds later he’s staring at me with an odd combo of wide eyes and furrowed brow. He lets out an exaggerated “Wow” before he adds, “that is _so_ strange, isn’t it?” He chuckles. “Completely crazy.”

I raise an eyebrow but don’t comment on his odd behavior. “Uh…”

“Anyway, how was it?” he asks before I can say anything and his voice is gentle when he adds, “When I left, uh… I was worried. I thought you would be upset when you left, but you seem okay.”

I rub the back of my neck with one hand and nod. “It wasn’t that bad. I mean, he didn’t say much about my parents and he was pretty vague about the rest… I’m sure he left out some information as well, but…” I take a deep breath, readying myself for any and every reaction Marco might have to my next words. “… He spoke mostly about you two.”

Marco’s smile withers and his eyes widen minutely. Still, he looks very neutral when he asks, “What did he tell you?”

I look him over before I reply, trying to gauge what he’s feeling or thinking. It wouldn’t be fair not to tell him what I know, but I don’t want to upset him either.

“He told me about your parents, what happened to them. He’s sure that it was the same thing that happened to my parents.”

He’s staring at the floor and I’m afraid I’ve upset him. “I see,” he says.

I clear my throat, determined to not let the awkward silence perpetuate, but as it turns out my input is kinda unnecessary because a shrill noise fills the air and Marco takes a phone out of his pocket. Looking from behind the screen everything is blurry (on purpose, to avoid the invasion of privacy there was when the material was completely transparent, or when the operational systems spoke out loud and only accepted vocal orders. The government decided to prohibit those types of technology a few years ago, when birth rates decreased and the rates for crimes of passion and sedentariness increased. Not that those rates were exactly off the charts, but they smudged the perfection that Sina is supposed to be) but I can tell Marco has received a text message.

“Levi’s asking for your phone number,” he says eventually.

I frown. “Levi is texting you? He’s right across the street.”

Before I even finish my sentence Marco’s already shaking his head. “There’s no point in trying to understand Levi, Jean. I’ve been trying for years and all I learned is that it’s better to just roll with it.”

I shake my head and sigh. God, how can so much complexity fit inside such a small person? “Fine.”

I mumble my number to the phone so it can add me to Marco’s contacts, and Marco sends the number to Levi. I take the opportunity to get Marco’s number as well.

“I have to reopen the shop now. You wanna hang out some more or…?”

He shakes his head. “I can’t, I have someone scheduled for 4pm. But I’ll drop by later to return the book for sure.”

He smiles at me, I open the doors to PIXIS, we say our “I see you later”s and I have to say I’m in a great mood as life goes on. After days and days of talking to Marco I had barely scraped the surface of who he is and where he comes from, but today there was an immense progress in that area. I’m satisfied, pleased with myself and the Universe for this opportunity.

Speaking of Universe, it’s in the middle of the night – hours after Marco returned the book, hours after I closed up the shop, hours after I received Levi’s weird message asking for Dr. Jaeger’s address – that the Universe decides to start the game.

Its first move is a phone call at 3am.

The ringing wakes me up and I reach blindingly for the hellish thing so I can tell whomever is calling to go fuck themselves before I hurl the phone into a wall, but when I pick it up green letters spell out MARCO on the screen and I decide that Marco is too nice a guy to call me up at 3 in the morning just for shits and giggles. I tap the corner of the screen and the call is on speaker.

“Hello?” I mumble.

“J-Jean?” His voice sounds small and quiet and I think I hear him sniffling.

I’m grimacing already. “Marco, what’s wrong?”

“I’m so sorry I called you, I – I don’t know what to do –“

“Marco, tell me what’s wrong,” I demand, the alarm bells ringing in my head doing a greater job at waking me up than any bucket of cold water.

I hear sniffling again. “They found us, I think – Levi is gone and they found us and the house is on fire and – I- I don’t know what to do – What do I do now?” His voice becomes quieter and higher with each word, until I think he’s actually crying, and due to a lack of Marco beside me so I can pull him closer I clench my fingers into my sheets.

“Fuck. Okay, okay. Are you safe now, Marco? Where are you?”

“I- I’m in an uh… an alley a couple of streets away.”

I’m slipping out of bed and looking for my pants when I say, “Okay. You think you can make it to The Rose safely?”

More sniffling, but his voice is steadier. “I don’t know but… maybe?”

“Freckles, I need you to be sure. Have you seen any MP officers or cars around you? Can you hear them?”

“No.”

I nod though Marco won’t see it. “Then you can do it. Be as quiet as you can, don’t run and stay in the shadows, okay? I’ll meet you at the café, alright?”

“ _Wait_ ,” he says, his quiet voice full of panic. “You’re going to hang up?”

The front door locks itself behind me when I close it. “Marco, it will be easier for them to find you if you’re speaking on the phone. I’m going to hang up but I’ll see you soon.”

At his end, he doesn’t say anything.

“Marco, I promise you I will be there waiting for you,” I say in a gentler tone. “You need to move from where you are, get away from your house.”

There’s hesitance but he finally whispers, “Okay. I’m going.”

“Good, I’m already on the way. Be safe, okay?”

“Okay. See you soon, Jean.”

“See you soon, freckles.”

The moment he hangs up, I break into a run.

Honestly, I don’t even know how I was able to sound stable over the phone, much less tell him what to do. And I hope, I just hope with all my heart that I said the right things and didn’t send Marco into his death at the hands of some sneaky Military Police officers.

But fuck that, I can’t think of what ifs while running so fast my lungs begin to burn earlier than usual and my legs feel like cotton. If something bad happens, it’s all on me and I’ll deal with it later.

It’s raining (as expected. Marco said something about his house being on fire, right?) and I slip on a puddle once and fall but pick myself up in record time, then keep running. Right now I hate the fact I don’t own a car, but then again, I never needed one until now. I reach the cafe quickly but I’m the only one there. I don’t know why I’m surprised; I did tell Marco not to run and avoid the lights – that way he should be less perceptible to the security cameras all over the city, and less suspicious to anyone who walks past him. Actually, now that I’m here I realize just how shady I must have looked running in the streets in the middle of the night.

Ah, well.

But I’m sure running at 3am isn’t as bad as sheltering a man wanted by the law.

I lean against the locked door of The Rose Cafe & Restaurant and take deep breaths. I can barely hear the rain what with the sound of my blood pumping in my ears. When my body starts to cool down I notice the sting in my left hand and knees; I look down to find my hand is bleeding a little and my jeans now has a not very stylish hole above one knee and a yellow-ish stain on the other.

I wipe the blood and grime off my hand on the yellow-ish knee and look around me for a sign of a familiar face. There’s a drenched cat playing with a dead cockroach across the street, but that’s all.

Another ten minutes pass and I’m ready to bang my head against the wall behind me until I bleed because that’s it, I gave the wrong orders, they found Marco and he’s dead, I killed him. Fuck I’m an idiot, a useless, pretentious asshole who thought he was smart enough to save someone. _I hate you Kirstein you fucking moron god I’m sorry Marco I’m so sorry Jean you idiot I hate me why is this happening –_

I close my eyes and press the heels of my hands onto them, maybe because even now I don’t want to cry, maybe because it hurts when I press my hands with too much strength and I deserve – need the pain, but mostly because I want to pretend the world around me doesn’t exist and that when I open my eyes again I’ll be in the past, inside PIXIS, hanging out with Armin, looking at the ‘FOR SALE’ sign across the street…

The gentle touch on my shoulder pulls me back to the rainy reality and when I open my eyes I don’t see Armin or bookshelves, but I do see someone with a wet teal hoodie, skin a few shades darker than mine, I see worried eyes and freckles –

“Are you okay?” Marco asks me breathlessly.

What the –

“Am _I_ okay?” There’s a hint of laughter in my voice but that question is just so ridiculous but so Marco I can’t keep it out no matter how inappropriate laughter is right now. I grab his shoulders and squeeze and yeah, this is Marco right here, very much alive, thank you Jesus.

“I thought you were already dead, man. Are _you_ okay?”

Marco hesitates but nods. “Yeah, I’m okay. Just… wet.”

“Did anybody follow you?”

“No, I walked in the shadows like you said and stopped to look around once in a while but there wasn’t anybody.”

I give his shoulders another squeeze before I let go. “Good, the rain will get in their way, too. Come on, we’ll go to my place and then we can figure something out, okay?”

He nods again. “Okay.”

I straighten up and he’s already turning to leave when I put a hand on his chest. “Wait.”

I make him switch hoodies with me, which may be useless in the end but at least it _could_ (maybe… if we’re lucky… hopefully…) convince anyone in Mitras with access to the city cameras that the guy running from the direction of my place was Marco all along. I wonder if this is how Levi lived all these years? Doing even the smallest of  things to ensure his and Marco’s safety?

I leave my hood down and by the time we get to the apartment complex my hair is completely soaked and we’re both cold. The rain has stopped, though, which means the fire was put out. I try not to think of how many rains in the past were caused by fires intentionally started by the MP to kill civilians. The silence between me and Marco doesn’t help me, but I don’t try to break it; if I were in his situation I wouldn’t want to talk much, either.

I slide the key into the door and it opens with a click that sounds louder than usual and afterwards I drag Marco straight to the bathroom. The lights come on when I open the door. “There are clean towels under the sink. The shower takes vocal commands so you really can’t fuck up there and uh that’s the hamper, just shove your clothes there so we can wash them tomorrow…” I rub the back of my neck, “Yeah. That’s all, I think. I’ll get you some dry clothes.”

I’m at the door when Marco finally speaks. “Jean,” is all he says, but it looks like he wants to say more so I shake my head.

“Shower first, talk later, dude. Wet jeans are fucking uncomfortable,” I say, grimacing.

I grab my towel and leave the bathroom to go fetch dry clothes for the both of us in my bedroom. I dump my wet clothes in a basket behind the door (more clothes to wash tomorrow), dry myself with the towel and put on the dry clothes.

I wait for Marco to come out of his shower so he can tell me exactly what happened and while I wait, I sit on a stool at the kitchen counter with a glass of water in front of me and my cellphone in hand.

It hits me then that it doesn’t even matter what exactly happened tonight; what matters is that Mitras wants Marco, who never did anything wrong, who is currently homeless and in my bathroom.

_it’s worth a shot. Sooner or later we all die anyway, might as well try dying for a worthy cause._

God fucking damn it, Jaeger.

I pull up the photos I took of the blueprints that now I know belong – no, belonged to Dr. Jaeger.

That annoying static is back in my head.

_Scythe, coffin… there’s a lot of danger in your near future. You have to make a big decision, too, probably related to an important secret you’re keeping._

This is it, then? Is this what I’m supposed to do?

The static gets stronger, louder; I can’t help but tune out the world around me.

I don’t want to die… if I do this I have to take Marco with me… I don’t want him to die, either. I can’t do this. Can I?

_Stop being stupid, Kirstein. If I didn’t know you could do it I wouldn’t have said anything in the first place._

That’s another order, then.

The static spreads through my body, down my arms, into my hands…

My finger slides over the screen, pulling up Jaeger’s number, tapping the little green square, who cares if it’s ass o’clock in the morning...

“Kirstein?”

“Hey, E—wait, _Levi_?”

“For the love of fuck, tell me the dumb kid is with you?”

“He’s in the shower – _you’re with Jaeger?_ ”

“Tell that little shit to call me in the morning.”

“Levi, what the fu—”

“Hey, asshole.”

“Eren?”

“Yeah.” He sighs. “I heard I have you to thank for today?”

“What does that mean? Can anybody tell me what’s going on?”

“Levi is here, obviously. He… told us stuff… About dad.”

I wince. “Oh. So that’s why he’s there. Uh, how are you guys?”

Another shaky sigh. “We’ll be fine. If we weren’t so exhausted I think Mikasa would still be trying to punch Levi in the dick, and you can bet I would be in your apartment waiting to kill you in your sleep for giving away our address to shady stran—Ouch!”

I can hear a _“Who you calling shady, you fucking brat?”_ in the background, followed by a _“Don’t you dare lay a finger on Eren, you shady ass shorty!”_

God, I can’t believe it’s not even 5am.

“Anyway, why did you call?” Eren asks eventually.

“Oh yeah, about that, call everyone later today; we’re having a movie night.”

“Are you fucking kidding me, Kirstein?”

“I’m really not, dumbass. I’m _really_ really not.”


	5. Unicorns

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _"She turns around and walks, seemingly satisfied with the impromptu interrogation. When she reaches the door she turns around again. “I forgot,” she mutters, and then recites more loudly, “If you see these criminals please alert the police, and thank you for your cooperation and time, Mr. Kirstein.” And just like that, she turns and leaves._
> 
> _I stand stunned for a moment, dropping the nonchalant act now she’s gone. My legs feel weak, my shoulders droop, my heart slowly goes back to normal. I hate how scared I am of these fucks. I hate being reminded of how weak I am. This girl could have killed me right here and I wouldn’t be able to stop it._
> 
> _God, I need some air."_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I went back and fixed some things in previous chapters (nothing major, though, just some dialogue and details), and the character list is updated (includes characters that only show up in the next chapter).

Lie: it’s hard to laugh when the times are tough.

Truth: the humor in some words doesn’t take away the seriousness of life and, similarly, the seriousness of life simply cannot take away the humor in some words.

Lie: there is a word for everything in the world.

Truth: there are things in this universe that can’t be described even with a million words, like all the colors we can’t see or the noises we can’t hear.

Lie: I don’t have the hots for Marco Bodt.

Truth: I didn’t plan to have him naked in my living room. I swear.

I was still leaning against the counter that separates my living room from the kitchen with a half-empty glass in my hands when I noticed I wasn’t alone. There, standing in the middle of the hallway, was Marco Bodt clad only in one of my towels, wet hair dripping onto his shoulders, which in turn made the water roll down his chest and possibly places I am not ready to think about when Marco is standing right there and my dick is (almost) standing right here.

I try not to look at the smattering of freckles on his shoulders, or on his ribs, or at that wet happy trail.

I think we stated some time ago that my eyes are traitorous little shits, right?

Marco clears his throat and crosses his arms across his chest and I force my eyes up to his face again. When I see he’s blushing I start blushing too, and I hope he hasn’t noticed the inappropriate once over I just gave him. With my luck he definitely has, so now I hope he won’t comment on it.

He doesn’t, thankfully, but instead he says, “Uh… you said… you would bring clothes, but…”

I straighten up with a jolt. “Oh! Shit yeah, sorry, man.” I move around the counter and power-walk to my bedroom, practically fusing with the wall when I pass Marco as to avoid physical contact, and he helps by moving out of the way as well.

I open the closet and after a quick search, I throw a t-shirt that I use to sleep since it’s a little big for me and an old pair of sweatpants over my shoulder. Then, almost as in an afterthought, I open a drawer and reach deep into it to grab a pair of boxers I have never worn.

The only ones that would fit that criterion are the ones I got as a gag gift from Eren last year on my birthday.

The green ones with little smiley horse faces on it.

Fucking Jaeger.

I throw that over my shoulder as well.

When I get up and look at Marco, he’s holding his towel with one hand, his other gripping the boxers he’s staring at. The other pieces of clothing are draped over his shoulder.

I rub a hand over my face. “Eren thinks he’s fucking hilarious. They’re the only ones I’ve never worn before, though, so you’re just gonna have to deal with it.”

Marco chuckles, but it’s weak, and I’m suddenly reminded why he’s here in the first place. His eyes don’t look as lively as usual, either, and I can’t bring myself to feel anything but bitterness at the sound he makes.

“It's not that bad…”

I laugh, the sound coming out a little flat. “Are you blind? The only word for _that_ is atrocious, Marco. I don’t even know where he finds stuff…” I gesture towards the green monstrosity, “… like _that_.”

His lips form a half-smile, but it’s not his usual and okay, _enough_.

I sigh. “I’m gonna get you some water, be right back.”

I do as I say, going to the kitchen and grabbing a glass for him and refilling my own. When I come back to the room he’s already dressed and my clothes probably look better on him than on me – they fit him better at least, and those yellow pants that look stupid covering my white ass look annoyingly good on him, the tan skinned fucker.

I sit down on my bed, my legs spread in front of me and my back against the wall. Marco follows suit, sitting down in the middle of the mattress with his legs crisscrossed.

“So, what happened?”

He accepts the glass I hold out to him and holds it with both hands. He’s looking at me when he says the same thing he’d said earlier, “They found us, Jean.”

And then he continues, “I forgot to do the grocery shopping this week and Levi decided he didn’t want to cook with anything we already had at home, so I went out to buy dinner. On my way back Levi called me, told me not to go back, that they were there, we had been compromised. He didn’t say much else, but he sounded like he was running and trying not to be too loud.

I was close to our house when he called, all I had to do was turn a corner to see it; so I did.” He shook his head morosely. “There were a few of them outside the house, keeping guard. I saw something flash through the kitchen window, then the fire started downstairs. There was a second flash upstairs, then fire again.

Two of them came out through the front door, and next thing I know the officers standing outside were all running in different directions. That sent me running as well – I just dropped everything and ran. I tried calling Levi but he didn’t pick up and then – then I – I called you.”

He drops his head and rests it against his hands, arching his back all the while, making himself smaller and smaller, curling up like a threatened animal. It’s  a terrible, pitiful sight that I hate, but it fans the flame of my hatred for Sina, Mitras, the Military Police, the King and anyone who supports this disgusting State that doesn’t hesitate to antagonize and destroy people who have done nothing wrong.

At the same time, the curled up frame of the man before me reminds me of the limits around the city. The Wall. My anger mixes with frustration and hopelessness. I am just as much of a threatened animal as him. I think anyone inside this wall is, even if that is unbeknownst to some of them.

I grip my glass tighter until the water inside trembles in little waves. I stare at the water instead of Marco. I’m aware of my selfishness, but I just can’t stand looking at him anymore. He looks like everything I’m keeping bottled up inside of me, like the deepest, darkest corner of my consciousness – the one you only become aware of when you’re lying in bed and the room is dark and your limbs feel heavy.

But turning my head away doesn’t impede me from hearing his voice.

“God, I’m so sorry, Jean. I’m so, so…” he trails off. His voice is somewhat breathless and lower than usual. It’s only audible because everything else is so silent. “Now you’re caught up in this mess, too – Sorry, I’m so sorry. I am risking your life, they could come for you too. This is so messed up…”

I shake my head though he won’t see it. “That’s fine.”

“No. It’s not fine, Jean.”

“No, Marco, it is.”

“If they find out I was here they’re going to kill you too. What have I done? It would be better if I left. I should leave,” he says, but makes no move to even raise his head.

“Marco,” I call.

“Hm?”

“Look at me.”

He sighs.

I reach out and grip his shoulder. “Look at me, dude.”

He moves his hands and raises his head so he can look at me. His face is red – whether it’s because his position is making it difficult for him to breathe or something else, I don’t know and I don’t really care, because whatever the answer is, it’s still bad.

I hold his gaze, my scowl still firmly in place. “We’re friends, aren’t we?”

Marco looks confused, but he nods. “Of course we are.”

“And friends help each other out. I’m not going to lie, Marco: I’m scared, too. I don’t want to get caught by those fuckers and die thinking that I was always nothing but an annoying bug waiting to be squashed. But there’s no way I’m letting you deal with this alone.”

We hold each other’s gazes for a moment; me, hoping my eyes let him know I am a 10000% sure of what I’m doing, and him, searching precisely for that confirmation.

Seconds pass and I know we have found each other halfway when he nods and says, “Okay.”

I finally look away and sigh in relief – I’m not tactful enough to deal with stubborn people ( _cough ~~Eren~~ cough_ ) and if Marco had kept apologizing or protesting it would have probably ended in a fight, which is the last thing the guy needs right now and the last thing I want right now when I’m so tired I’m hearing the bed underneath me whispering my name so sweetly. _Jean, Jean, lie down, Jean…_

I sigh again. Soon, my sweet bed, soon…

I frown inwardly. I’m having a telepathic conversation with my bed.

I must be catching the crazy from Sasha.

“Jean?”

I snap out of my sleepy daze. “Hm?”

“You look like you’re about to keel over,” Marco says with a smile.

I wave at him. “Nah, I’m f—“ a yawn cuts me off, “—ine.”

He laughs his usual, light-hearted laugh, and I feel my worry dissipate a little.

“How are you feeling?” I ask.

He smooths the duvet with one hand while the other supports his head, his elbow digging into his thigh.

“Angry, mostly,” he answers, scowling. “I thought we were going to be okay since it’s been 13 years and nothing happened all this time – I mean, why did it take them so long to find us anyway? I thought they weren’t even searching.” He sighs. “They had to take everything away again. I – we lost everything, _again_. I don’t know what we’re supposed to do now. Hell, I don’t even know where Levi is, or even if he’s – if he’s –“

“He’s okay.”

Marco looks up at me. “What?”

“I called my friend while you were in the shower but ended up getting an earful of your um… brother-friend-neighbor-coworker-guy instead. He told me to tell you to call him, by the way, and I would have told you all of this earlier but… you looked so upset that I…” _couldn’t handle all this worry_ , maybe? Shit, Kirstein, get a grip.

Luckily for me, Marco doesn’t look upset that I forgot to mention that his brother-friend-neighbor-coworker-guy is just dandy. He looks confused as hell, though.

“Jean, why would Levi be with your friend?”

I scratch my temple, trying to figure out the best way to explain this. I suppose I should think of whether I’m even allowed to explain this shitstorm, given Levi’s well kept little secrets and Eren and Mikasa’s current situation, but… fuck it. Marco’s going to find out about everything sooner or later, and given the path I think we’re going to follow from now on, sooner is way better than later. Not to mention, Mr. Short Grumpy and Mysterious has kept too many secrets from Marco and I’m not going to do the same.

You could say Levi’s methods are below me. Ha. Get it?

“Um… Remember when we were having lunch and Franz said Dr. Jaeger hadn’t been home in a few days?”

Marco glances sideways like he’s trying to remember, and then he nods. “Yes.”

“During my session with Levi I mentioned that to him and turns out he was one of the doctor’s patients. Then when he asked for my number it was because he wanted Dr. Jaeger’s address so he could… speak to Eren and Mikasa. Dr. Jaeger blabbed to the shorty about some plan he had to go against the monarchy.”

Marco’s eyes widen at the same time he takes a short, sharp breath. “He thinks Eren and Mikasa’s dad was…” he trails off.

I nod. “It’s been days already and no sign of the man. There isn’t a better explanation, is there?”

His eyebrows furrow a little and his eyes hold a soft but doleful look that tells me he’s feeling my friends’ pain. What he’s feeling, however, isn’t out of sympathy: it’s memory. It’s feeling that emptiness that comes with loss all over again, reliving the confusion and denial, looking around you and thinking that certain people will never look at that world again, or hear its sounds, or breathe its air. It’s coming to the realization that those who were meant to guide you through life and support you no matter what won’t be able to do that and that you are on your own now.

I can see all that in Marco’s eyes because some days I can see it when I look into the mirror.

And now I dread having to see it in Eren and Mikasa… or in anybody, for that matter.

“We’re having a gathering tomorrow night at Eren’s so we can figure out what to do.” Or more like how to do it. The what part I kind of have figured out already and simply thinking about that gives me chills.

Marco nods. “Okay. Um… are you going to work tomorrow?”

I think for a while – should I go to work? Is that safe? Will they make a connection between me and Marco or Levi that indicates I’m a threat as well? Will they make any connections at all? It’s not like I was the only guy in that area Marco spoke to. He helped the old lady with the tiny flower shop with the heavy sacks of dirt or large vases sometimes. He was friendly with the guy from the electronics shop, too, from what he told me about the guy (took too many smoke breaks, his wife gave birth to their first child just a few months ago and he was still on cloud nine). Did they find me in their images earlier? Were they looking?

No. The likelihood is small. The MP is good, but not perfect. And they tend to be arrogant as well, so I wouldn’t be shocked to find out the guys responsible for monitoring the cameras love to take naps during work or something. I’m probably off their radar for now.

But they would be really idiotic not to look for Levi and Marco at their workplace. So me not showing up for work would be suspicious, wouldn’t it, if they searched the whole street and interviewed the people who regularly saw the wanted duo.

I sigh. “Yeah, I have to go. Not going could look shady.”

Marco yawns, causing me to yawn in reflex. “’S there anything you want me to do around here while you’re out?” he asks.

“Like what?”

“I don’t know. Cleaning, cooking, finding the secret to life itself… My being here is trouble enough, I would feel bad if you didn’t let me compensate.”

I shrug. “Well, if you wanna clean don’t let me stop you, man. You can do whatever you want, my home is your home.”

He yawns again. “Thanks.”

I get out of bed and stand up. “Okay, that’s it. We need sleep and we need it now.”

Marco laughs but agrees and after that it takes about 3 minutes to pull up the top half of the bed, fetch the extra linens and a blanket in the lower half, pull down the top half, and spread everything on the couch without any finesse whatsoever. 30 seconds to mumble a goodnight and slip into my bed. Another 5 seconds for me to pass out.

* * *

 

When my alarm starts shrieking (and that’s what it sounds like to me right now, a fucking obnoxious shriek) less than 3 hours later, my first thoughts are:

_Nope. Not going to work today. The MPs can come bite my soon-to-be-dead ass. I don’t care. I’m not leaving this bed._

The alarm keeps shrieking even as I roll over to face the wall.

_Scream all you want, I’m not leaving._

“JEAN!”

_Uh, that shriek wasn’t the alarm._

My eyes shoot open, which makes me feel a little awake.

“TURN IT OFF!”

I flinch, but roll over again so I can stop the alarm. When the room is silent again and Marco doesn’t shout-bleat anything else, I can’t help the shit-eating grin that slowly spreads across my face. Who would have thought always-radiant, sunshine-and-puppies, help-old-hags-cross-the-street Marco Bodt could sound so sour, borderline hostile, even. Sunny disposition does not a morning person make, it seems.

I get up and follow my usual routine a lot more languidly than usual, dragging my feet and rubbing my eyes every minute to keep myself awake. I stare at Marco’s form when I reach the living room and note he looks blissful and deeply asleep. One of his legs hangs out from the couch and one of his arms is stretched behind his head while the other is trapped under his body. He looks so ridiculous I’d laugh if I weren’t operating in zombie mode right now.

At the same time, it’s great to see him relaxed like this. Marco’s a lot more resilient emotionally and psychologically than I thought. His bubbly personality doesn’t come with the typical naïveté. Then again, what was I expecting? The guy’s gone through this shit once already when he was 10 years old, didn’t he? This is no uncharted territory for him. And at age 23 he’s certainly more able to deal with the loss and fear than when he was 10.

Not that I think he has gotten over this predicament completely – I’d be an idiot to think that. But he seems to have accepted it and he’s taming his emotions. It’s like… like a soldier in a war, maybe. They see a comrade fall but they can’t stop to mourn, they have to keep going. Marco’s doing just that. He’s sleeping and laughing because life moves on and mourning won’t help him at all, only action will.

I leave the apartment but leave my phone behind with a message for Marco blinking on the screen: _“Back at 7”_. If I don’t come back by then, I hope Freckles’s subconscious will let him know that my intention was to leave the device behind on purpose, so he could call any of my friends.

Jean Kirstein, part-time seller of books, full-time pessimistic paranoid prick. Nice to meet you.

 If the Universe has gifted me with an ounce of luck, whoever he calls is going to be a nosy little shit and search every corner of the phone until they find the blueprints.

Never thought I’d say this but I’m glad the bald monkeys I call friends are curious bastards who don’t know the meaning of the word privacy when it comes to anyone in our ragtag group.

Walking past the cleaning robots and the kids on their way to school, I can’t help but feel a slight tension on my shoulders. It’s like I expect a horde of assholes in green and the Royal coat of arms to jump me at any moment.

They don’t, but when I reach PIXIS there are 2 of them right across the street, sitting inside their unicorns – let me explain: unicorns, actually named Units Class 0: utility: Repress & Nab, are the Military Police’s standard method of transport during chases or operations in wide spaces. Being single-man units, they’re small enough to be able to fly through narrow and wide spaces, as well as allow the police squads to split up quickly and efficiently if need be. They also come with little perks like projectile launchers and newton-sensitive energy fields that activate automatically upon impact with anything harder and faster than, say, an apple thrown by a lanky teenager 8 feet away from the unit.

They were nicknamed unicorns not only because each unit has its identification written on its doors and, due to abbreviations, the identifications all begin with UNITC0-RN-0 – followed by the number of the unit – but also because the King’s coat of arms is a fucking unicorn.

If anyone needed further proof that the monarchy and its loyal minions suck, that’s it. No decent police force would be so tacky.

It’s easy to remember, though, and hard to forget. It’s just Mitras’s way of reminding everyone that hey, they have cool machines and weapons and are not afraid to use them if you step out of line.

In front of the fortune tellers’ shop are units 7 and 9. Both officers are white, blond, blue-eyed, and, as far as I can tell, absolutely bored. The only differences between them are biological sex and size; the female in unit 7 is pretty small, while the male in unit 9 is tall and broad.

The female’s bored gaze finds me and I freeze for a moment before I whip my head around and continue to fumble with the key.

It’s strange, but all during my shift the presence of those officers outside only makes me feel safe instead of tense.

Well, at least until the short blondie walks into the shop a few hours later.

Her eyes never leave me as she walks toward me, they never stray to the books or to the floor or to her partner outside. She walks a straight line and each step she takes makes my blood pump faster, my heartbeat louder.

She stops and we stare at each other for a few seconds. Her face is inscrutable, her steps just now determined and precise, but her dark green uniform jacket is rumpled and her hair is tied up in a low but messy bun. I don’t know what to make of her. Right now I’m the prey and she’s a hunter.

“What’s your name?” she asks eventually.

“Jean. Yours?” I try to make my voice sound nonchalant and even raise an eyebrow to reinforce the act. I probably come off as an asshole. Eh, whatever.

“I need your last name too.”

I try not to scowl or growl. “It’s Kirstein, officer…?”

There isn’t even a hint of difference in her expression and she doesn’t answer me, just takes a pad out of a pocket inside her jacket. The blurry back of the device has the Royal coat of arms on it. The MP spends a minute fiddling with the device, which bleeps afterwards.

“You’re clear,” she says.

“Excuse me?”

And then it hits me: those could have been my last words. If Levi was wrong and the government were looking for me still, this girl in front of me would have killed me just now. I feel like I just swallowed a block of ice.

She taps the screen another few times, lays the object on the counter between us, and suddenly it projects a hologram with Levi and Marco’s faces underneath the word WANTED. Their faces are somewhat pixelated and black and white, but still identifiable.

“Do you know them?”

I snort. “You and your buddy are parked outside their shop.”

“When was the last time you saw them?”

“Yesterday, at around… 4 or 5 in the afternoon, maybe.”

“Are you particularly close to them?”

Now I scowl. “They work across the street and we chat sometimes to pass the time but that’s about it.”

“Did they ever mention any places they wanted to go to, or friends’ names?”

I turn my head, pretending thoughtfulness. “Um… I don’t think so. Nothing I can remember, at least.”

“Did they ever try to recruit you for any acts of terrorism?”

Terro—what? My eyes go wide. “Uh… No, not really. What the hell did they do?”

“Committed an act of terrorism against the King and the State,” she replies, her tone never wavering, never anything other than a bored monotone. She retrieves the device and blocks the screen.

I roll my eyes. “No, but _what_ did they do?” Because terrorism? That’s pushing it, I believe. Treason? Yeah, maybe. Terrorism? No. Not yet.

The now transparent pad disappears into her jacket. “Stole property from the King.”

“Oh,” is all I say, because _oh_. Now, that’s _really_ pushing it.

She turns around and walks, seemingly satisfied with the impromptu interrogation. When she reaches the door she turns around again. “I forgot,” she mutters, and then recites more loudly, “If you see these criminals please alert the police, and thank you for your cooperation and time, Mr. Kirstein.” And just like that, she turns and leaves.

I stand stunned for a moment, dropping the nonchalant act now she’s gone. My legs feel weak, my shoulders droop, my heart slowly goes back to normal. I hate how scared I am of these fucks. I hate being reminded of how weak I am. This girl could have killed me right here and I wouldn’t be able to stop it.

God, I need some air.

Looking at the clock on the wall I decide a quarter past 11 is a decent hour for a lunch break, so I leave the apron behind, pick up the keys and leave. While I lock up the door I see, from the corner of my eye, the guy from unit 9 approach his unicorn, a pad identical to the one I saw minutes ago in his hand.

“You questioned him?” he asks. My hands stop.

“Yeah,” the short officer replies.

“Did you do it properly this time?”

A few seconds of silence, then: “If you don’t like the way I do my job, you’re welcome to interrogate them all by yourself next time.”

He sighs. “You’re really not suited for this job, Annie.”

“They’ll be finished soon; we won’t be doing this for much longer,” Annie says.

I remove the key from the lock, put it in my pocket and walk away without sparing them a glance.

_They’ll be finished soon._

What are _they_? Is that even relevant? Probably not.

I sigh inwardly. I need to stop worrying about every little thing.

I shove the curiosity and worry away and make my way down to Rose Cafe.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ~~He really should worry about every little thing... especially _them_. Just saying.~~
> 
> Thank you guys for the kudos and all forms of feedback, they're immensely appreciated! <3


	6. I may be a jerk, but I'm not the only one

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _"“Shut up,” he says. “You’re an asshole, you know that, right? You knew my dad was hiding all this dangerous crap in my house and you didn’t say shit. And now you want to talk? I’m close enough to punching you in the dick as it is, don’t make it worse with your neighing.”_
> 
> _I grimace. I get it, I fucked up! I told myself that a hundred times in the past 10 minutes, goddamn it, but I don’t need this type of shit on my plate. I don’t get the chance to yell back at Jaeger, though, because just when I open my mouth, there’s a loud knock on the front door – though it’s less like knocking, more like someone banging their fist against it._  
>  _Jaeger and I stand there staring at each other until the banging repeats, now accompanied by a shout of, “Eren Jaeger and Mikasa Ackerman, you and this house are under investigation of the Military Police, we need you to open up!”_
> 
> _“Fuck,” I gasp._
> 
> _I fucked up so, so bad."_

“Wow, you look like roadkill,” is the greeting I get from Connie, who’s evidently slacking off right now. He’s wearing the look-at-me double-breasted black and red coat and i-am-a-chef black slacks, but instead of doing chef things he’s just leaning against the door jamb which separates the dining area from the kitchen. He has one hand on Sasha’s face to keep her away from the pyramid of cheese in his other hand, which is extended and as far from her reach as possible.

“Jean!” Sasha says cheerfully, but her tone takes a 180 to the somber when she practically materializes right in front of me and grabs my face with both hands and says, “Wow, yeah, you look like turd. You okay?”

I push her away (with whatever pitiable strength I have after sleeping for 2 and a half hours after an evening soaked in the mix of adrenaline and emotional exhaustion). “Get off me, weirdo. I couldn’t sleep last night, ‘s all.”

Connie approaches us with his eyebrows raised. “That’s weird. Your life is boring as hell like, you’re pretty much a grandpa who goes to bed at 9 on the dot; what were you doing?”

_And the alternatives are:_

_A) Aiding a criminal._   
_B) Having a heart-to-heart with a criminal._   
_C) Revisiting childhood traumas._   
_D) Planning a crime._   
_E) Running in the rain at 3am._   
_F) All of the above._

Somehow, none of those sound too good, so I opt for alternative H:

“I was reading a book.”

Sasha blinks. Sasha has the gall to cover her mouth while she tries (and fails) not to laugh her special brand of laughter which switches between tittering and guffawing every few seconds. Sasha’s getting a noogie very, very soon. “Oh my god, that’s worth like 200 grandpa points, Jean.”

Connie joins her let’s-make-fun-of-grandpa-Jean party with his own snicker and old man impressions.

 “All this time,” he says between gasps, “All this time we thought the lighter part of your hair was part of your weird DNA but it’s actually just your hair graying because you’re old as balls, isn’t it?!”

On a better day I would probably respond to their Tweedle Dick & Tweedle Dumb antics with loud snarky comments and minor violence, but I am so burnt out all I can do is stare at them with half-open eyes and wallow in my never-fading, piping hot, internal rage.

I divert my eyes towards the ceiling. I am so not awake enough for this shit. Can I punch them later, Universe?

…

I’ll take the silence as a yes.

“Fuck off. Armin reads more books in a semester than I did in my entire life so far but I don’t see you guys calling him grandpa.”

Connie holds up his index finger “Ah, but Armin is Armin. He’s the little dweeb genius. That, and Eren would shove his boots down our throats if we messed with him.”

I grimace. “That’s true.”

“Actually, Jean, you’re pretty much the only one we can make fun off,” he says, staring at me thoughtfully. “If we made fun of Eren, Mikasa would kill us, but if we made fun of Mikasa both Eren and Armin would plot our demise, and if we said anything about Ymir she would punch us, and if we said anything about Krista, Ymir would torture us, set us on fire and then bury us alive.”

I scowl. “What are you getting at?”

He shrugs. “Maybe you should consider getting like, a super strong person to be lovey-dovey with, someone who would kick our asses for your honor.”

I know Connie didn’t mean for that to be a sucker punch but – ouch. Way to remind me that I’m a sad, lonely bastard.

“First of all, _I_ will kick your asses for my own honor, asshole. And second – Connie?”

“Yeah, gramps?”

I wipe the smile right off his face when I tell him, “Sasha’s eating your cheese pyramid.”

He whirls around quickly and lets out a drawn out “NOOOOO!!!!!!” that makes me wonder if that cheese is made out of solid fucking edible gold. He deserved it, though. Ha.

“Jeaaaaaaaaaaaaaaan,” Sasha whines from her seat at the table near us despite all the cheese in her mouth.

I smirk and shrug.

Vindicated (and really, now I have to say the best kind of revenge is the kind where you don’t have to do absolutely nothing), I dodge their ninja battle for the cheese pyramid and go find a table. Now I see why Connie is slacking off: the cafe is empty except for me and 2 other people who are not even eating, only sipping their hot drinks and tap-tap-tapping away on their several electronic devices all at once.

One of those people is wearing the green coat with the King’s coat of arms. I lower my head onto my folded arms on the tabletop and stare at that green unicorn confined by a shield.

Unicorns, nymphs, mermaids, dragons – strictly speaking, those are creatures of myth. Creatures that exist only in fantasies. And yet, they are allowed in this unforgiving place and the monarchy even claimed one of them as its symbol. This is just one of the incongruities of our reality, a tiny piece of an old world that slipped through the cracks and into this world. But, Sina being the twisted paradise that it is, of course those myths had to be twisted to fit in.

All those fantastic beasts and beings became the monsters in stories parents tell their children to get them to behave. And admittedly, I know that even before Sina mermaids and nymphs and dragons were not always depicted as cute, cuddly little things; sometimes they were depicted as real monsters, but here in Sina there is only one way to think of them, and that is with fear.

The unicorn, though. That’s the biggest joke. Originally a symbol of purity, grace, spirituality, now a symbol of relentlessness, strength, power – the violence and oppression are implied. It’s like they took a unicorn and drowned it in a tar pit.

I straighten up my spine and stretch my limbs, yawning.

Man, I really hate this place.

“So, what do you want today?” Sasha says to me a moment later, cheese crumbs in the corners of her mouth and her hair. I look around her but Connie’s no longer in sight. Now that it’s getting closer and closer to 12:30 customers are arriving fast, so he must have gone back to the kitchen.

“Coffee. A lot of it,” I tell her before yawning once more. “And waffles. 4 of them. With whipped cream and extra chocolate syrup, no sprinkles.”

 Sasha frowns. “Are you sure sleep deprivation is all this is, Jean?”

I hide my head in the burrow between my arms which are once again crossed over the table. “ _Yes, Sasha_ ,” I say harshly. “That’s all it fucking is.”

I hear her sigh and the rustle of fabric as she takes the seat across from me. “You know, whenever I’m sad or stressed I always eat a lot of sweets though usually I don’t like sweets all that much.”

I hum in response. “Fascinating.”

She kicks me in the shin under the table. “Don’t be more of a dick than you already are. I’m just saying, _you dick_ , that if there’s something making you sad or stressed, you can tell me.”

She shakes my arm until I look up and when I do, she has this rare little smile on her face and her eyes glow with unreserved gentleness that looks misplaced on Sasha of all people – but it looks… beautiful, I suppose, at the same time.

And I know this may very well be a stupid thought but her words make me flashback to last night (or should I say this early morning?) and what I said to Marco. I told him friends help each other, didn’t I? So he shouldn’t feel guilty about sharing his heavy burden. But here I am, still hiding things from everybody. And when I said that to Marco, what look did I have on my face? I think I looked angry, didn’t I? Not even slightly close to the friendliness etched on Sasha’s features right now.

Not for the first time I wonder what the hell do I think I am doing? Where did I get the idea that I could help anybody? I’m just an asshole who sells books for a bald wrinkly dude who shows up like once every 4 or 5 months maybe. What the hell do I know?

I nod. “Okay,” I say, though the word comes out more quietly than I wanted or expected.

Ugh. Now I’m sleepy and in a bad mood.

Fuck. Maybe if I walk up to that MP sitting right there and insult his mom he’ll end my miserable existence.

Just kidding, just kidding. I’m an asshole and a loser but I’m aware of my responsibilities, don’t worry. Gotta get Freckles out of the shit he’s in and maybe, just maybe, break a wall along the way.

Oh yeah, speaking of –

“Sash, did buttface call you guys yet?”

Sasha blinks, her hand on my arm falling away. “Hmm… Oh! Nah, he didn’t call, but he sent a text to everybody. Movie night tonight, is what he said. It’s not even Friday yet, though, so that’s weird.”

“Yeah, but you and Connie will go, right?”

She nods frantically. “Yup! Nobody ever skips movie night! We have to be there to make sure someone’s recording when you actually take your clothes off and Ymir starts having an attack.”

I kind of want to go along with her humor and crack a joke but I know for a fact tonight’s not going to involve anything amusing and the weight that’s settled in the pit of my stomach doesn’t allow me to laugh.

I raise my index finger. “One, Ymir wouldn’t have an attack, she would grab Krista and run like a demon from a cross, the demon being Ymir and the cross being a dick.” I lower my index and raise the middle finger. “Two, you all are a bunch of fucking perverts.”

Sasha laughs but gets called away by Franz. Some 15 minutes later he’s the one who brings me my heavenly coffee and waffles. I take my time eating and walking back to the shop because even after the coffee I still don’t feel like staying awake. At this point I consider just closing up early and going home to take a nap before we have to go to Eren’s but the Bitchy & Big Blond Duo in front of the fortune tellers’ make me rethink that idea.

The day drags by slowly and I almost fall asleep about 20 times but eventually the sunlight outside starts to fade and I decide it’s time to leave, even though today I would usually do some extra hours.

But never mind that, it’s time to come clean.

* * *

 

“Holy shit.”

You know, this is not exactly what I meant when I said “come clean” but hey, I’m not complaining. My apartment smells like lavender. It looks pristine and fucking clean. All the dust that had been living on top of the furniture for a month because (as long as I don’t have to say anything out loud then yes, I can admit it) I can’t be bothered to clean the place more often is gone.

That’s it, man. Marco is a demigod. I can’t believe anything else. This guy was made in the heavens by some cool deities who know their shit and decided to create the goodness that is Freckles Bodt to bring the sun back on a rainy day.

Marco’s head peeks out of the kitchen and his lips stretch out in a smile. “Hey, Jean,” the gift to humankind says. He walks over to the center of the living room a couple of feet away from me and opens his arms wide, twists his torso and neck to encompass the whole apartment in his gesture. “Ta-da.”

He’s wearing his own clothes and his hair is damp, which means he must have done the laundry and taken a shower. He’s just as clean as the rest of the apartment. Heck, he probably smells like lavender too. Maybe I can sneak a whiff – uh, yeah, or not. Whatever.

“I didn’t think you would actually clean this place, you know.”

He shrugs. “I had nothing better to do.”

“Did you call Levi?”

“Yeah.” His smile falters a little and a blush settles on his cheeks, but he recovers quickly. “Anyway,” he says, “what time should we leave?”

I shrug. “Whenever. The Golden Trio is all there already, I bet, plus the Grinch. The Tweedles and Little Red and her wolf all get there around 8, though.”

Marco blinks at me. Like, half a dozen times. “I have no idea what any of that means.”

“Oh. Right.” Goddamn, people who don’t read. I cock my hand on my hip and press the other over my mouth, thinking. Finally, with some rather vague gestures, I explain to him: “Look, it’s like this; Jaeger, Mikasa and Armin are the Golden Trio, Levi’s the Grinch, Connie and Sasha are the Tweedles, and Ymir and Krista are Little Red and the wolf. And all those were book references. Got it?”

Marco makes a funny face, like it froze halfway through a flinch. “Uh… yes… but no?” He scratches his jaw. “I mean, I got that you were talking about your friends but I still don’t understand the references.”

I sigh. “Dude, I thought you liked books.”

He raises his hands in front of his chest and smiles a please-don’t-hurt-me smile. “I do! It’s just, liking books is different from reading a lot. Not all of us have easy access to forbidden books, Jean,” he admonishes me kindly.

“That means I have to hook you up with some, then.”

He sighs, shoulders drooping. He looks defeated. “Can – can we just leave?”

I smirk in victory but open the door behind me. Marco puts on his shoes and picks up our phones, which had been resting side by side on the kitchen counter. When he walks by me on the way out, I definitely smell something sweeter than lavender.

I check my phone before closing the door and find there’s a new message from Ymir.

_Something came up with my dad can’t make it tonight and I’m kidnapping Krista too_

_TTYL losers_

Ah, well. That’s a little inconvenient, but nothing too bad. If it weren’t for the mention of her father, I’m sure Sasha, Connie and Eren would have tried to convince her to ditch her plans, but as it is, we all know there is no chance they’re coming. None of us know what the deal with Ymir’s family is – we don’t even know her last name, actually – but years of friendship taught us that her father must be a strict man. But if needed, we all know where Ymir and Krista live (they’ve been living together for the past 3 years or so; that’s how they met and how we all met Ymir. In 3 years the only change they made in their apartment is that now there’s only one bedroom, the other was turned into a place for Krista to paint in. If they get married within the next year Connie will owe me 50 bucks).

And now it’s time to come clean for real.

* * *

 

“Holy shit.”

Eren and Mikasa’s house is really clean. Like, freakishly clean. The place smells of bleach and a hint of lemon, and it shines like a fricking hospital. You could eat rice off these shiny floorboards, I’m sure. Even the walls look a shade lighter than the last time I was here.

In front of us is Levi in a light yellow frilly apron, with cloths covering his nose and mouth and wrapped around his head like a bandanna. He’s still wearing yellow gloves. So that explains it.

“Are you shits just going to stand there or are you going to come in?” he asks, before turning around and disappearing into the kitchen.

Beside me, Marco takes a step into the house and promptly begins to remove his shoes and place them neatly beside the others’. I’m still standing there like a statue, trying to grasp how a house could become so clean and _a frilly apron, really?_ but Marco pulls on my sleeve and I snap out of it. I take off my shoes while he closes the door and pulls his hood down.

We find Eren and Mikasa already in the basement (they seem to already know about Marco, and welcome him with no trouble at all, which I’m thankful for because ) and only a few minutes pass before Sasha and Connie come tumbling down the stairs with Levi (no longer looking like he’s going to war against evil germs) on their trail.

“I brought the food!” is the first thing that comes out of Sasha’s mouth as she brandishes a thermal bad, while Connie just grins and raises a hand in greeting. “Yo,” he says.

A few more minutes pass, wherein introductions are made, Mikasa takes the bag of food from Sasha and pushes her away with a foot because the she wants to dig into the bag to select which snacks are hers, Eren and Connie compete to see who can send Armin more texts until the blond arrives at the same time they chat with Marco, Levi sits on the couch beside me and occupies ¾ of it despite his own compact size… and finally, Armin arrives.

The little genius barely has time to say a breathless, “Sorry I’m late, got caught up with a project” before Levi turns to me and completely shatters the pleasant mood in the room:

“Eren said two of you can’t come so now that everyone is here, what’s the reason for the shitty brat convention?”

One by one my friends stop speaking until all eyes are on me and I freeze. No, seriously, I freeze. I can’t blink, I can’t swallow, I can’t move my eyes to look at anything specific, and I feel cold like I felt earlier when that MP – Annie, wasn’t it? – reminded me of my own helplessness and mortality. Right now I’m as good as a statue made of ice.

I don’t know how to say what I have to say and I don’t know how to do what I have to do.

I mean, this is _awkward_. I know something about this house that my friends don’t and they fucking live here. I know something about Dr. Jaeger that they don’t and the guy was their fucking father.

Sometimes I swear I never chose to be an asshole, but the burden of assholeness was thrust upon me.

The Universe is the real asshole here. And in other news, the sky is blue.

I think.

I’ve never seen it for real.

Oh whatever, you know what I meant.

“What’s going on?”

Connie’s voice thaws the ice, cracks the spell. I can now look around me, and all I see are my friends’ worried eyes. Not curious, not demanding, not cold or hard gazes – just worried. Somehow that’s comforting, but still I look at floor as I mumble, “I don’t know where to start.” But before any of them can say anything, I take a deep breath in and prepare myself to spill everything I know at once.

“Don’t get mad at me,” I say, letting my eyes wander from Eren to Mikasa across the room, to Levi on my left and then to my right and slightly above me, to Marco.

The latter gives me a short nod and that’s all I need.

“The Military Police is killing anyone who shows dissatisfaction towards Sina, that’s what’s going on. Thirteen years ago, they got Marco’s parents, a year later it was my parents, and recently… Dr. Jaeger.”

Sasha gasps.

“S-so… he…” Connie stutters.

They both look up at Mikasa, whose impassive expression is only betrayed by the way one of her hands clutch around the hem of Eren’s shirt, and Eren himself, who looks grave as he grips the old key that’s been hanging around his neck for years with one hand while the other rests above his thigh in a tight fist.

I still think Jaeger is an idiot with suicidal ideas and Mikasa is a scary badass with a little bit of a brother complex, but in this moment they look so fucking _solid_ , a surge of sheer respect washes over me. Wherever their parents are – if they are anywhere at all – they better be looking at these two right now.

“How do you know?”

Armin’s expression mirrors Eren, but he sounds angry at the same time.

 “He disappeared, Armin,” I say.

“Just because he disappeared doesn’t mean he got murdered due to some conspiracy theory, Jean. That’s insane.”

“Not when the guy had plans to bring down the wall, it’s not!” I snap. “He told Levi about it, Armin! If he told anyone else, it wouldn’t be so hard for it to slip out and reach those fucks in the Police.”

Armin shakes his head. “You don’t have any evidence, Jean. Without evidence, they wouldn’t have a reason to –”

“Yes, they fucking would! You don’t get it, Armin, they’re offing people for even saying they’re unhappy with _this_ ,” I make a vast, circular motion above my head to represent the city. “God fucking knows what they do to people who make _plans_ to bring it all down. And the reason why you’re all here is because _yes_ , I have fucking evidence!”

Now that shut him up. And it probably wasn’t the best way to go about this, but you know what, though? I don’t even give a shit. I’m still riding out the anger from my outburst, which is giving me enough energy to finish this topic and disclose all information I have.

I ignore the wide-eyed looks I’m getting from pretty much everyone in the room and Eren’s breathless “What?” and develop the explanation on my own.

“There was a loose tile in the kitchen and I don’t know why but I moved it and found a book underneath it, with all sorts of info on cameras and patrols and stuff. I…” My eyes catch Eren’s and Mikasa’s anxious looks and the energy I got from my anger disappears. I remember that I’m talking about their house and their father and that leaves me once again flustered and awkward. “I have photos in my phone but I put everything back where it was so it should still be there if your dad didn’t move it or anything.” I look down at my feet. “I’m sorry,” I add in a mumble.

The silence that settles in the room is somber and oppressive. I can hear my heart beating, I can hear the rustle of fabric beside me, I can hear my conscience yelling at me for being a shitty friend, _I can hear that fucking static again and seriously what the hell is that_ –

“You moron,” Levi spits, and it’s almost quiet but sounds like a gunshot in the silence. “You should have said something sooner.”

I want to retort, to be angry at him for the insult, but I can’t because he’s right. He’s right, and I fucked up, and I’m feeling guiltier by the minute despite a voice inside my head telling me that what I did was cowardly but natural. Natural or not, I fucked up and that can’t be changed.

“I know,” is what I say.

“ _Wait_ ,” Armin says sharply. I look up to see him looking at Levi with the intense look he gets when he’s on to something. “Eren told me earlier that you would stay here because the Military Police burned your place down. Is that right?”

“Yes.”

“And Jean said Dr. Jaeger told you about his plans. He also pointed out we don’t know what happens to people who get discovered making plans against Sina.”

Levi shifts in his seat. “Yes…”

“If Jean found paper evidence, that means Grisha acted on his plans. It’s possible that the MP knew that and if they interrogated Grisha and he said you had anything to do with the plan to lead them away from Eren and Mikasa, it’s logical that they would go after you next. However, if they didn’t find anything in your house…”

I can pinpoint the moment Levi stopped breathing. His eyes go wide and his spine tenses. After a moment I catch on to what Armin was saying and figure out what the end of that sentence would be. All I can say about it is:

“Oh no. Oh shit.”

“I don’t know what’s going on but it looks ominous,” Sasha pipes up suddenly. “Can someone explain?”

Armin looks grim as he turns to her and explains, “I think they’re going to come here next.”

“And if they find dad’s papers…” Eren trails off.

Armin nods. “You and Mikasa would get arrested at the very least. Even if they don’t find anything they will still interrogate you both. And if Levi and Marco are here with you when they come... the four of you will be killed.”

“Five,” Levi corrects.

At Armin’s quizzical look, he points at me and explains, “He’s too involved with all of us, his family has history with the Police, and there are pictures in his phone. It would be stupid to let him live.”

I repeat: Oh no. Oh _shit._

I swallow thickly. I can feel shivers running up my back and making my nape tingle. When my hands begin to tremble slightly, I feel a hand brush against my nape and settle on my shoulder, just like that time in the tiny, quaint shop. I appreciate the contact; it’s pacifying.

“What do we do?” Marco asks, voice as steady as his hand on my shoulder.

“I’m not sure about that, but we need to figure something out quick,” Armin says. “They wouldn’t do anything during the day due to all the possible eye witnesses, but now that they have a next target they won’t take long to act.”

 “Kirstein, you need to go look for Dr. Jaeger’s shit, see if it’s still in the kitchen,” Levi commands. “And hope to God you didn’t fuck up so bad the unicorns are already on the way. We need to leave as soon as possible and the closest entrance to the Underground is three blocks away from here.”

“Underground?” Eren asks with a frown I’m sure is identical to my own.

Levi shakes his head. “No time to explain, but now it’s the only choice we have.”

“Actually, you could stay with me if you – ” Armin suggests, but both Eren and Mikasa cut him off in unison with a loud “No.”

“We’re not going to put you and your grandfather in danger, Armin,” she says.

I see Connie and Sasha exchange a look and open their mouths but no, no way.

“Or you two,” I say, staring at them.

“But –” Connie starts.

Mikasa interrupts. “Jean’s right.”

“Then why did you even call us here if you won’t let us help?” Sasha asks, visibly irate.

“Because I thought you deserved to know why three of your friends are in deep shit and about to disappear off the face of the Earth,” I snap.

 Sasha’s scowl wavers and she turns her head away. She brings her knees up to hide her face even more and now I know she’s not just angry, she’s sad, frustrated. The weight of the situation has finally hit her hard. I want to reach out my trembling hand to offer her support but I’m too far away, too depending on Marco’s steadying grip to keep it together myself. Thankfully, Connie wraps an arm around her shoulders. He doesn’t look too calm, either.

Now that I look more closely, even Armin looks distressed behind his let’s-get-shit-done façade. His hands are clenched into fists, his jaw set so tightly I’m afraid his teeth will crack any second. Compared to the three of them, the rest of us, the ones who are truly fucked, look calm.

The truth, though, is that they’re still indignant, while we have already come to terms with our collective misfortune. Worst case scenario we would just die, but they would stay behind to deal with the loss. Between permanent oblivion and long-term anguish I don’t know who has it worse in this situation.

“I don’t like this,” Sasha mumbles.

Connie pulls her closer to him. “Can’t we do anything to help out?”

“You can,” Levi says. “Almost everyone in the Underground is hiding from the Police so they can’t come up here often to get the most basic shit like food. Instead, they have suppliers bring that shit to them, but there aren’t many of those. You could do that.”

Connie and Sasha nod. “Alright,” baldie says.

Levi stands up and fishes a phone out of one of the pockets in his jeans. “We need to go. Kirstein, go pick up the papers.”

“I’ll go with him,” Eren says, standing up.

We don’t speak as we make our way to the kitchen and Eren doesn’t even look at me as I move the tile and pick up the notebook that is still there – thank God – and a little bit fatter than the last time I saw it.

I put the tile back in its place and stand up. “Look, I –”

“ _Shut up,_ ” he says. “You’re an asshole, you know that, right? You knew _my_ dad was hiding all this dangerous crap in _my_ house and you didn’t say shit. And _now_ you want to talk? I’m close enough to punching you in the dick as it is, don’t make it worse with your neighing.”

I grimace. I get it, I fucked up! I told myself that a hundred times in the past 10 minutes, goddamn it, but I don’t need _this_ type of shit on my plate. I don’t get the chance to yell back at Jaeger, though, because just when I open my mouth, there’s a loud knock on the front door – though it’s less like knocking, more like someone banging their fist against it.

Jaeger and I stand there staring at each other until the banging repeats, now accompanied by a shout of, “Eren Jaeger and Mikasa Ackerman, you and this house are under investigation of the Military Police, we need you to open up!”

“Fuck,” I gasp.

I fucked up so, so bad.

We both look around us for a few seconds until survival instincts kick in and he grabs the notebook from my hands with one hand, takes off his key necklace with the other and whispers, “Get the coats and shoes, then basement. _Go._ ”

He runs away towards the stairs and I run towards the door to pick up as many shoes as I can pile into my arms in ten seconds, ignoring how there’s only a door about 10 centimeters deep separating me from people who want me dead. I grab all the coats and wrap them around the shoes before flying down the stairs and into the basement.

I don’t know what I expected to find down there, honestly. Hysterical crying, some shouting, tufts of hair falling to the ground… Definitely not a fucking hole in the ground, that’s for sure. But alas, there is a large hole opening up in the ground right in front of me where a sunken, deep, square shaped portion of the floor slides to the side to reveal a staircase that disappears into the darkness below.

One by one we hurry down the stairs into a narrow, dark corridor, which lights up when our presence is detected and. The last one is Eren, and when he inserts the old key (the one he wears as a necklace and that I never, ever thought opened anything) into a keyhole in the middle of a bright red metal plate on one of the walls, there’s a rumble and the sunken part of the floor slides to the side and up again to merge perfectly into the house. Before the hole closes up and effectively blocks any noise coming from above, we can hear the sound of the front door being knocked down.

I drop the clothes in my arms to the floor unceremoniously. “What the hell is this, Eren? Where are we?”

He pulls the necklace back around his neck and leans against the wall. “It’s an emergency exit. My dad made it when he and mom moved in. When they adopted Mikasa he showed it to us and gave me the key.” He frowns. “I have no idea where we are, though. But in any case, we’re safe here.”

“You’re not related?” Marco asks Mikasa, frowning. They bend down to look for their shoes and the rest of us follow suit.

“Carla and Grisha took me in when I was four,” she replies.

“Did they look related to you, Marco, really?” I ask. Connie sniggers.

Marco raises a very sardonic eyebrow. “I don’t know what the Jaegers look like, Jean, but genetics is a funny thing. My dad was blond, blue eyed and whiter than your teeth.”

I finish putting on my shoes and stand up. “Are you sure he was your dad?” I ask, cheeky despite the bleakness of the situation.

“Are you sure you don’t need to go back to 8th grade and relearn how genetics work with all the other children?” he replies, looking as blithe as always.

I hear quiet snickers and “oooh”s and my jaw drops. Did I just get told by Saint Marco?

“Yep,” Armin says with a small smile.

Oh, I said that out loud, huh?

“Yes, Jean,” the blond says again.

Damn.

“Here.” Sasha rummages through the thermal bag (trust Sasha not to leave her food behind even during chaos) until she finds a cold soda can to hold against my cheek.

I frown. “What?”

She shrugs and grins. “Something cold to treat that burn.”

I roll my eyes and flip her off.

“I’m glad to see this near death experience and likely destruction of your friends’ childhood home haven’t affected your shitty brains,” Levi interrupts, “but can we get a move on?”

We start walking, our steps rattling the metallic grids under our feet. Underneath the grids I see wires and pipes that look blue-ish due to the reflection of the narrow strips of light on each side of the ceiling. Because of the narrow space, we are forced to walk in pairs at most. Even though none of us are claustrophobic, I can tell that no one except Levi is comfortable walking in such a small space who knows how many feet beneath the surface.

Eren, Mikasa and Armin seem to be the most uncomfortable ones among us, likely because thanks to Levi they're now dwelling on their house. Beside me Marco looks more upset than I expected him to be, but I don’t know if it’s because of the tiny space or because he’s finding out yet another secret of Levi’s. By the way he’s staring at the man’s nape, I think the latter is more likely.

“Where are we, though? And where are we going?” Armin asks.

 “This tunnel looks a lot like the ones in the Underground so if we’re lucky, this one connects to the rest of the network,” Levi explains. “That brings up the question of why Dr. Jaeger had a connection to the Underground under his home, though. We need to ask Hanji to find out.”

“Hanji?” Marco asks.

Levi nods and starts fiddling with his phone again. “They’re… a friend. You’ll see,” he says and holds up the phone.

A few seconds later a loud, unfamiliar voice fills the tunnel.

“Levi! You reached the Underground Office of Unlimited Knowledge, how may I help you now, o grumpy one?”

“Hey, four-eyes, the plan I texted you about a few minutes ago went to shit and now I’m stuck in a tunnel with a bunch of kids. I need you to find out where we are and how we get from here to the center.”

“On it! Sooooo, care to explain why you’re bringing strangers into the nest? Oh – you’re in tunnel 32. Number 12 is to your left.”

“Got it. So we really are in the Underground?”

“Yep. The tunnel you’re in looks really short and doesn’t connect to hall 3, though. And there’s a door at the end of it. That’s strange…”

“It’s connected directly to a Grisha Jaeger’s basement. You should look into that as well.”

Hanji hums. “Ooor we could ask Erwin about it later. Now back to the point, Levi! Why are you bringing new people with you? What happened?”

And so Levi relays to this Hanji person everything that happened in the past two days while the rest of us follow him (almost) quietly through the maze of tunnels, only stopping once at the end of tunnel 32 so Eren can open the door with his key. Eventually we reach the double doors with “00” etched on them.

Levi kicks the dirty metal a few times and the doors slide open to reveal a large, tall, poorly lit room with monitors of varying sizes and large machines, keyboards and odd equipment  covering one of the walls.

Behind the whole technologic mess is a large chair that rolls backwards when we come in. From the chair pops an unkempt figure that rushes in our direction.

“Well hellooooooo,” the person drawls loudly and cheerfully.

Yeah, this is Hanji.

Hanji wears slightly crooked glasses and sweatpants with bleach stains, a rumpled button-up shirt with a missing button, sleeves rolled up, a messy ponytail and loafers, not to mention the deepest, darkest bags under their eyes. So deep I wonder if they’re even alive.

And I thought I was sleep deprived today. My sleeplessness ain’t shit compared to Hanji’s.

They shake hands with every one of us quickly as they introduce themself. “I am Hanji, nice to meet you all. Welcome to the Legion, lair of all lucky unlucky sons of bitches, which now includes you.”

Legion?

Eren repeats my question, only out loud.

“The Legion watches over and protects the Underground,” Levi explains, then smirks faintly. “We like to fuck with the MP from time to time, too.”

“We?” Marco asks, and to my surprise he doesn’t look angry, but genuinely curious. “How long have you been involved with this?”

Levi’s simple answer is, “I was born here.”

Marco sighs, his expression turning sullen. I tune out Hanji’s chatter in favor of shifting a bit closer to him so I can tap my knuckles against his arm.

“You okay?” I ask when he looks up at me.

He answers with his typical half-smile and a nod. “Yeah, thanks.”

I want to call bullshit on that, but the way he averts his gaze away from me in one swift moment makes it pretty clear any attempt at a further discussion of this subject won’t be appreciated.

When I turn my head back toward the center of the room, Eren is right beside Hanji, who is now going through Dr. Jaeger’s notebook with a look of manic mirth on their face.

“Oh my God, Erwin’s gonna go bananas when he sees this stuff.”

“Who’s Erwin?” Eren asks.

“Oh, he’s our fearless leader. We’ve been gathering information on Sina’s government since he became top dog because he wants to overthrow it,” they say, sounding so nonchalant about it they might as well be talking about the weather. “BUT THIS! This is solid gold! Only the top secret documents are on paper since it’s easy to dispose of and harder to steal than any sort of info online.”

Mikasa steps forward – it’s impressive how everybody stops to pay attention to her when she moves; for all her quietude, her presence is huge and imposing. “May I ask something?”

Hanji nods. “Of course.”

“When we were in the tunnels I thought all this ‘Underground’ thing was just a means of traveling through the city without being detected by the Police, but now you’re making it sound like something a lot bigger. I want to know where the hell we are and what we are doing here.”

Hanji smiles and tilts their head in the direction of a wooden table in the corner of the room. “Okay. You’re going to love this.” They approach the table and swipe some of the clutter off the surface with their arms, causing books and loose sheets of paper to fall on the floor. Thanks to the mess, a thick black cube becomes visible in the center of the table. Hanji presses a button in the cube and a big hologram builds up in front of our eyes. It’s obviously a topographic map of Sina.

“This, as you can see, is Sina. And this…” They tap away on some keys until another maps appears right underneath Sina. This one is almost a real maze, with thick lines crisscrossing and zigzagging, but the number of corridors is impressive, as well as how deep under the city they go. “… is the Underground.”

My eyes widen. “Are you kidding me?” I gasp.

According to this hologram, the Underground isn’t a mere network of tunnels, but something similar to a buried city.

“We’ve been living in a city on top of a city all this time?” Connie says somewhere behind me, the awe evident in his tone.

“Essentially, yes,” Hanji grins.

“Amazing,” Armin murmurs. That’s an understatement, I think.

Hanji presses a button again and the maps disappear. “I can tell you more about it tomorrow, but now I need each of you to fill a form and hand over your phone, unlocked please – don’t worry, don’t worry, I won’t snoop around much and I’ll return them in the morning. After we’re done here, Levi will show you to the cafeteria, bathrooms and sleeping quarters.”

The form consists mostly of medical questions and some about aptitudes and skills, that sort of thing, nothing invasive or too personal. The phones, according to Hanji, will be tweaked for the sake of security or whatever. Levi turns out to be a shitty tour guide, to the surprise of absolutely no one, and though I’m impressed with the large size of the cafeteria and bathrooms, I know that finding my way to them through these tunnels will be a bitch. Shit, if I wake up in the middle of the night needing to take a piss I honestly don’t know what I’m going to do.

Speaking of sleeping, once we reach the quarters we find out that the norm is two people per room to save space. Considering Levi has had his own room down here for years, and Eren (who is still pissed at me, as far as I can tell) and Mikasa are siblings, I get to share the room with Marco. Not that I would prefer to share it with anyone else, to be honest – Eren and I would try to kill each other or prank each other until everyone around us was miserable, Mikasa is a girl who I had a crush on so yeah, awkward, and why would anyone in the universe want to share a room with Levi?

Armin, Sasha and Connie will go back to Sina in the morning so they don’t get their own rooms, but for the time being, Connie and Sasha borrow the room beside mine and Marco’s, while Armin decides to sleep with Eren and Mikasa.

The rooms are a bit small, but okay for two people; bunk bed, closet, a wide desk, _a bed_. I'm a little upset that this isn't my home, but once I sit down on the mattress in the lower bunk my exhaustion hits me like a ton of bricks. I kick my shoes off, sprawl over the mattress and adjust the pillow under my head.

I mumble, “Home, sweet home,” and only have time to hear the beginning of Marco’s soft laughter before I’m out like a candle.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am Jean, Jean is me. I am so ready to pass out.  
> I should have titled this fic "How To Bad Life Choices, by Jean Kirstein".  
> Speaking of life choices, I don't know if it's going to be the next chapter or the one after that, but one of them is going to be in Marco's POV. Cool, right? Super cool. Deadly cool.
> 
> Oh and by the way, I'm putting this fic up on [tumblr](http://fivefootabitching.tumblr.com/) as well, under the tag fic: ripple, if that makes it easier for anyone to accompany the fic. Anonymous questions or comments can be sent to me over there as well if that makes you more comfortable. OKAY? OKAY. COMMENTS AND KUDOS MAKE THE AUTHOR'S WORLD GO 'ROUND so thank you guys for the ones you have left so far <3
> 
> Now excuse me, I really need to go to bed, ugh.


	7. Friendly do or die

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _"And that’s the funny thing about routines that I never realized: just because every day feels the same, it doesn’t mean they are the same. You can never go back in time, ever. Life is a pushy bastard; it forces you to move forward with every millisecond that passes, and everything you do and say is carved in stone rather than penciled onto paper. Because of that, when you find yourself in a tough situation, the only thing available to you is to look forward and seek out a good future._   
>  _What was it that he said that time?_
> 
> You’re going to do some obviously risky shit but you’re gonna have good company. __
> 
> _Call me selfish, but I’m glad for that last part._
> 
> _And I guess now I have no choice but to renounce my skepticism about fortune-telling, huh?"_

When I wake up, there is no bright spot of warmth over my hand. If I run my hand across the wall there is no window. The softness under my head feels different, flatter, this morning. I crack my eyes open but I can’t see the blurry reflex of the annoying clock numbers on the ceiling. I can’t see the ceiling, either. This isn't my bed. _What bed is this? Oh._

_Oh!_

_Oh no oh no oh no_. I should be at work. Wait, no, I can’t work anymore. Oh crap, Pixis will be so mad. And what about my bed? What am I gonna do about the apartment now I can no longer go back? Damn, I can’t go back, huh? What did I get myself into? I can’t take these past 20-something hours back now, can I?

I sit up with enough speed to make the world tilt sideways and spin for several seconds. At least I have enough room to sit upright without banging my head against the frame of the top bunk. It’s no surprise that, being underground and all, the rooms are pitch-black when the lights are out, no matter the hour. However, there’s a weak blue glow pervading through the air – a blue digital clock above the door – it’s past noon already – and that is enough to help me walk through the small space without stumbling over anything.

Marco’s bed is empty and neatly organized already and mine is left in a rather haphazard state before I leave the room. All I can do about my appearance is run a hand through my (kind of greasy – gross) hair to flatten it down since, you know, all my stuff is in my house which I can’t go back to like ever again.

I sigh. I bought groceries last week, dude. I can’t believe all that food and money is gonna go to waste.

And uh… which way is the bathroom?

I stand still in the empty and silent corridor for about two full minutes, trying to come up with the answer, but since I’m out of luck I end up wandering around, looking for familiar-looking tunnels or doors, but that’s not easy to do when absolutely everything looks the fucking same. All tunnels have the same cold lighting, the same grids on the ground, all doors are the same shade of dark grey… If I can find Hanji later, I need to remember to ask for a map or something. And clothes. And shampoo. A toothbrush would be nice, too.

I walk past the tiniest library I have ever seen (but really? A library?), the daycare center ( _really? A daycare center?_  ), a couple of ‘Legion Personnel Only’ rooms and then finally the bathroom, where a few people are brushing their teeth or taking showers. After I finish my business I resort to asking one of the guys brushing their teeth how I get to the cafeteria, because yeah, I want to find Marco and maybe Sasha, Connie and everyone else, but my stomach is speaking louder. Literally, if you consider all the grumbling as legitimate speech.

He spits into the sink and gives me a confused look. “You new here?”

“Yeah.”

He dries his hands on his face towel before he extends one to me. “I’m Eld.”

I shake his hand. “Jean.”

“Well, Jean, turn your left at the door, then the second right, big door at the end of the corridor. You better hurry, too, if you don’t want to get the scraps. Lunch started half an hour ago.”

“Oh shit. Thanks.”

I’m halfway out the door when I stop abruptly and turn around. I almost forgot – “Hey, how do I get to Hanji?”

“Hanji’s door is 00, just follow the numbers,” Eld says with a smile.

I frown. “What does that mean?”

“Oh, nobody explained it to you, huh?” He scratches behind his ear. “Uh… It’s a bit complicated, but… Well, each tunnel has a number – there are signs hanging from the ceiling at the ends of each one. Single digits are main halls, double digits are connections. Like, tunnel 87 connects hall 8 to hall 7, and so does tunnel 78, though some tunnels lead to dead ends. So, outside is hall 5, just keep going to your left until you find hall 1, then go up to tunnel 10 and finally room 00. Make sense?”

“Uh… I think so…” I say, scratching behind my ear. I have no idea what he just said.

He smiles and nods, seemingly satisfied with his own explanation.

“So, left, second right, big door, right?”

“That’s right.”

I give him a nod. “Thanks, man.”

“See you around, Jean.” He gives me a little wave with his hand.

“Sure,” I say, smiling a little at my weird-named savior.

The cafeteria is brimming with people when I get there, and when I say brimming, I mean it – hundreds of people in the same place generating an unhealthy amount of noise pollution (the Underground may have a daycare, bathrooms the size of small neighborhoods, libraries, and its own mad scientist, but one thing it doesn’t have is decent acoustics). All of these people are dressed modestly, but all of them look happy. And happy people are fucking loud, damn.

I pick up a semi-transparent plastic bowl from one of the tall stacks beside the door and make my way to the wall on my right, to the end of a line long enough to intimidate my sad, grumbly stomach. The wall has a window in its middle that starts a few steps from the corner where I stand and extends until the opposite corner, which I can’t see because of all the people and the sheer absurd length of the room.

I don’t even have time to pray the food down here is decent before dozens of people leave the line all at once and I’m moved about 40 to 50 steps forward to stand in front of a short old lady with big, round glasses that magnify her blue eyes and laughter lines in a way that makes her look 3 times as happy as everybody else, like her happiness is proportional to the years she’s lived.

Part of me wants to be totally freaked out by how disgustingly content and satisfied these people look down here. I mean, this is the Underground and this is where they _live_ , _under the freaking ground_. If Sina is a cage, this is one of those toys for hamsters. It’s a quirky looking cage inside a cage. Up there we could make the distinction between day and night thanks to the sunlight, but here they have a cold blue neon glow all day, every day. Up there we had parks with trees and grass, down here we have metal and concrete. How can you be happy like this?

Besides, I’m not used to seeing so much happiness in a single place. If I said it’s overwhelming, that’d be the understatement of the year. It makes me feel like I’m doing something wrong, not being this ridiculously happy, and that makes me even unhappier.

 “Ooh, yours is a new face, isn't it, dear?” the old lady says, adjusting her glasses with her wrist instead of her soup-stained, gloved hands.

I nod weakly. She stands on her tiptoes and leans over and out the window to let her giant eyes roam over me from toes to head, and if I wasn't freaked out before I kind of am now. Eventually she goes back to her original position and shakes her head, her smile being replaced with a frown for the moment.

“What have you kids been eating up there? You’re as skinny as the other three… That won’t do, now, will it?”

She promptly reaches for my bowl with one hand and a ladle with the other and scoops some red, chunky soup into the plate. It’s a miracle the liquid doesn't slosh everywhere when she shoves the dish back into my hand.

“Other three?  Which ones?” I ask as she shoves a spoon into my free hand.

“A big, sweet boy, another with the prettiest eyes, and a beautiful young woman with glossy black hair; you came here with them, didn't you?”

“Ah, yes… Can I ask… when did they come here, ma’am?”

“Oh, about… one hour ago? We were getting ready to serve lunch so we told them to wait for a little bit.” She pointed towards a corner near the end of the cafeteria. “They picked a table that way, if you want to find them.”

I nod at her. “Cool – I mean, thanks, ma’am.”

“No problem, dear,” she says, smiling once again. “ _Oh_ , I must really be getting old if I’m forgetting my manners – my name is Amina, what is yours?”

“I’m Jean.”

She tilts her head, a little like a bird, a lot creepy. “Jean what, dear?”

“Jean Kirstein, ma’am.”

She nods. “Dinner is at 7:30, Jean, don’t forget! We need to put some meat on those city boy bones of yours.”

It takes me a minute and Marco’s shout of “Jean!” to find his, Eren and Mikasa’s table for four. I sit down beside my new roommate and I’m glad I’m not the only one looking like trash – man, Eren’s bedhead is out of this world. Like literally, it’s standing up in ways that defy gravity like it wants to go back to its homeworld. In contrast, Marco’s version of a bedhead includes only a few tufts sticking up here and there, a cowlick in the back and fluffed up bangs. That plus the rumpled clothes plus how he’s supporting his head on his arms across the table plus his quiet yawn, makes me want to reach out my hand and tug at that cowlick, then run my fingers through the top of his head to mess up his hair even more. Is this a normal thing in physical attraction?

“Hey.”

“Oh, so it’s alive,” Jaeger comments, giving me a tight nod and an intense look that in Erenspeak probably means “I don’t want to punch you in the face repeatedly anymore”. I nod back and feel like a considerable weight has been lifted off my shoulders.

Unaware to that little side interaction, Mikasa complements: “And it speaks.”

“Unfortunately.”

I sneer. “Right back at you. By the way, where are the weird duo and Armin?"

"Left early in the morning," Mikasa explains.

“Hey, Marco, does Jean snore too loudly? I bet he sounds like a washing machine.”

Marco shrugs. “Jean’s a very quiet sleeper, actually.”

I feel a bump on my shin under the table.

“Come to think of it, I don’t remember you snoring that time, either,” Mikasa says with a dreamy look… Or not quite.

I bump her shin back. “You hog the covers, though.”

Eren frowns. “What?”

 I nudge Marco with my elbow.

“What are you two talking about?”

Marco’s quiet “oh” means he’s caught on.

“Nothing some good cuddling didn’t solve,” Mikasa continues, a rare, minute smile showing up on her features.

“Hey, Mikasa, you didn't –” Eren starts, eyes wide.

“Yes.”

Eren slams a fist on the table, causing Marco to jump a little beside me.

“No. No, no,” Jaeger repeats, eyes even wider, looking like the world has just taken a dump on his whatever-it-is soup.

Oh man, I love how the dumbest things can make the Jaeger Bomb blow.

“Impossible. Not – not _you_ – Mikasa, not _him_ , why –”

“Love does things to a person’s head,” Marco – well done, Bodt, well fucking done – joins in. “O-or that’s what I heard…” he adds quietly when Eren gives him a murderous glare.

I start laughing then, and only get louder when Eren turns his death glare onto me and begins repeating “I’d sleep in steel boxers if I were you, you asshole, how could you”. It doesn’t take long for Marco to join in with a chuckle that slowly grows, and I can hear breathy sounds that don’t quite qualify as laughter escape through the cracks in Mikasa’s grin.

For a moment, it’s like we’re not in this hidden away welter of tunnels, like nothing is wrong with our lives, it feels like we’re still back in Jaeger’s house, screwing around before the movie begins and Sasha and Connie take the last half-full bowl of popcorn hostage. I don’t want reality to come crashing down again. I don’t want any of this mess. I don’t. I want to go home and sleep, wake up, dodge the cleaning robot in the middle of the street, say hello to Dr. Jaeger, work until 9, hang out with Armin for a few minutes whenever he can.

I want to keep doing what I always, always did. I want my old, peaceful routine.

But I can’t go back anymore.

Neither of us can.

And that’s the funny thing about routines that I never realized: just because every day feels the same, it doesn't mean they are the same. You can never go back in time, ever. Life is a pushy bastard; it forces you to move forward with every millisecond that passes, and everything you do and say is carved in stone rather than penciled onto paper. Because of that, when you find yourself in a tough situation, the only thing available to you is to look forward and seek out a good future.

What was it that he said that time?

_You’re going to do some obviously risky shit but you’re gonna have good company._

Call me selfish, but I’m glad for that last part.

And I guess now I have no choice but to renounce my skepticism about fortune-telling, huh?

“Wait, are you guys kidding me?” Eren asks.

“Yes.”

“Duh.”

“So you didn't…?”

“Jesus, is this how you react when guys make passes on Mikasa?”

He frowns. “No. Mikasa can take care of herself and do whatever she wants, obviously, but only as long as ‘whatever’ is not _you_.”

“What’s that, fuckface? There’s nothing wrong with me,” I reply with a scowl.

He shakes his head. “Must be nice to be so oblivious.”

“Eren, I would never sleep with Jean,”Mikasa interjects. Man, 15 year-old me would be so heartbroken if he heard her say this.

“Yeah, and I already got rejected by Mikasa so I’d know to stay away even if I were still interested in your sister.”

“I never rejected you,” Mikasa says with a frown.

I shrug. “You never pick up my calls so eventually I got the hint, you know.”

Her frown deepens. “Jean, you never called me and you are the one who never picks up when I call.”

“Eren…” Marco says, causing mine and Mikasa’s attention to flick to his narrowed eyes and then to Eren, who looks suspiciously smug. “Do you have something to say?”

“Nope. What do you expect me to say? That I gave Jean the wrong number and edited his in Mikasa’s cellphone? Nah,” Eren says, shrugging with faux-nonchalance.

I barely have time to scoff, “Eren, you fucking idiot,” before Mikasa wallops him on the back of the head.

And the little shit has the gall to complain. “Ouch! Mikasa!”

Little shit.

“So that’s why you couldn't reach Jean that time to ask about Eren’s dad,” Marco says.

“That was irresponsible, Eren. What if something happened to Armin while he was out with Jean and they needed to call us?”

“He still has my number.”

“Then what if something had happened to you and Mikasa needed to get help from someone and the closest person was Jean?” Marco suggests.

“Oh come on, what are the chances of that happening?”

“What are the chances of being chased by police and dragged into an underground city because your dad knew some top-class secret stuff?” I look behind me and up, to see Hanji holding their own bowl of soup and spoon. They put the bowl down on our table and drag a chair from an empty table behind us over to sit with us. “And yet, here you are,” they add once they’re properly sat. They give us a little wave. “Hello, guys. Mind if I sit down?”

* * *

 

After Hanji arrived, we ended up actually eating our lunch, which tasted good despite its appearance, but didn't truly satiate anyone. But because the Underground is short on suppliers, they can’t get enough food on a regular basis or enough food, period, which in turn meant rationing and only 2 meals a day per person.  Then they told us that before leaving this morning, Sasha and Connie had officially volunteered and become suppliers, and Armin had asked for permission to move into one of the rooms with his grandpa since he had doubts about how safe they would be in Sina now. When asked about clothes, hygiene products and etc, they explained Connie, Sasha and Armin had already been instructed to buy several items for each of us but for the time being, they had a room full of second-hand clothes they gave away to those here who needed. Hanji gave us paper-made maps of the tunnels to hang up behind our bedroom doors too, which I’m grateful for. And then, after our soup bowls were empty, they revealed we have a meeting with that all-powerful guy, Erwin.

Which is why we’re in the central room, being stared at by the calculating blue eyes of a big, blond, kind of totally handsome in a sugar daddy kind of way, MP captain Erwin Smith. All through a seven by seven screen. In the dark. “Intimidating” doesn't even come close to this.

And it would be (almost) okay if he were just staring at us, but _oh no_.

“By utilizing the information you brought to us and your own individual talents, I believe our ultimate goal of taking over Sina could become a reality,” he says.

“T-taking over…?” Marco stutters beside me, and through the reddish glow coming from the screen and reflecting on his face, it’s visible his brow furrowed in a worried frown.

The Captain doesn't hesitate or falter, barely blinks. “Yes. It may sound like an overly ambitious fantasy now, but the papers collected by Grisha Jaeger contain enough vital information to turn that fantasy into a solid scheme, and with the right people on the right jobs, we can achieve success.

Of course there are risks involved for all of us, regardless of your current location or mine. Which is why for this plan to have any chance of success, all of us must be determined to succeed and willing to sacrifice everything we have for this cause. I can’t assure you success or survival, but I’d like you to think this over carefully.”

There’s a moment of silence after he’s done, and the looming darkness in the room gains extra weight with his words. My clammy hands spasm by my sides, my body and mind not knowing whether to settle for angry tension or fearful resignation. I can’t bring myself to look at my friends to examine their reactions but I wonder if Eren is happy now – this is what he’s always wanted, isn't it? To die for something good.

Die. Death. Loss. That’s a possibility – no, a likelihood, if we go along with this man’s plans.

Am I okay with dying? No _. No, I don’t want to die. I don’t want to die._

“What if,” I rasp, cutting the silence like a rusty knife, “we don’t want to be part of if?”

Before the words come, there’s a thud of boots hitting the floor, of Levi sliding off the cluttered table onto the floor.

“There are too many people here in this place, and all of them contribute to the community with their jobs, which we have to create to ensure balance among everyone. The job we’re creating for you is related to Erwin’s idea. If you don’t want to take it, we won’t have any use for you or reason to keep you here any longer, so you can go back to Sina to try and live a few days longer until the police find you.”

I can’t help but freeze.

I look over at Hanji and then Erwin, but they both look somber – as somber as Levi sounds.

I see.

Erwin’s sigh is sudden, but it comes through the speakers anyway and all of us look up at him again, and it’s like we’re looking at a completely different person. His once authoritarian and regal aura seems to have vanished, leaving behind relaxed shoulders and a softer gaze. This isn’t a Captain of the Military Police or the Leader of the Underground, this is just Erwin Smith.

Not to say that he’s no longer intimidating.

And not to say I’m no longer pissed at him, Levi, Hanji, the MP, the entire fucking Universe (yeah, specially you, Universe. Heard that? Bitch.) No, I’m seething inside. I don’t want to die, and I don’t want to be a hamster trapped in these tunnels and Jesus – all I want is to live out the rest of my pathetic life in peace.

But it is more comfortable to speak to the man Erwin, rather than the Boss Erwin or whatever.

“This isn't working,” he says. “I can’t apologize for forcing such a difficult choice on you because the circumstances are difficult but, at the same time, it’s no use if you don’t trust the Legion. It is the truth that the tunnels can’t keep in any more people so only the absolutely necessary personnel and the ones who were born in the Underground can stay, so if you don’t want to join us, it would be troublesome to let you stay. Those are the circumstances.

For the record, Armin Arlert has already accepted the offer and, since his grandfather used to be a mechanic and Arlert said his grandfather would be amenable to the idea, both of them will be arriving later today to stay permanently. Springer and Braus will receive the same explanation from Hanji later, and be asked to make the same decision.”

“You spoke to Armin?” Mikasa asks, her surprise evident in her tone.

Erwin nods. “A few hours after he left the tunnels, yes.”

I mull that over very fast and I realize: this blond hunk is one sly SOB. If he spoke to Armin he knows just how brilliant the guy is compared to the rest of us, and if such a smartypants found the offer good enough to accept it, it would serve as encouragement for us to agree as well.

I recognize the trick, but I agree with it. Knowing Armin, he weighted every possible pro and con, considered all possibilities, and if this is what he thinks is best for now…

Besides – I look at Marco, Mikasa and Eren – there’s this to consider, too. These three have less of a choice than I do since they are more connected to these Legion bastards than I am. I have an apartment up there, their homes were burned down; I have Pixis up there as a last resort even if finding the guy is like trying to catch smoke with your bare hands,while they have no one up there.

Look, I’m not an idealist like Eren, I don’t want to protect anything or _someone_ like Mikasa, I’m not righteous like Marco… if anything, I’m the sort of guy who, in the face of unlikely odds, would rather flee than fight. But my friends aren't like that. And if anything happens to them while they’re somewhere fighting for my freedom as much as theirs, while I’m hidden somewhere like the coward I am…

My hands tremble and I feel sweat roll down my back.

I have to do this. I don’t want to. I have to. _I have to_. I won’t disappoint them. _I have to_.

“Okay,” I say, hating every little waver in my voice. “I… Yeah, I’ll do it.” I look at the three beside me and they look… calm. None of them is freaking out like I am. None of them seems to be sweating or shaking. Don’t they realize the position we’re in?

Well, I mean, Eren is probably seconds away from coming in his pants because he was definitely dropped on his head as an infant and has the survival instincts of a rock, but Mikasa and Marco…? How can they look so… Oh. I get it now.

Mikasa knows Eren has been on board with Smith since the beginning, and now that Armin is in, too, she has no reason to say no. The things she cares about the most are going to be here from now on, so risky or not, she’s going to stay firm and do what she has to do to stay with them. Like always.

And Marco… I thought he looked completely calm at first but taking a second, longer look, I see the slight arch of his eyebrows. He’s not freaking out like I am but he’s probably just as aware of the danger as I am. Then again, as I said, he doesn't have a choice but to accept.

No more than a few seconds pass during my observation. “Guys?”

“I’m in.”

“I’ll stay with Eren.”

“Okay.”

“Fantastic!” Hanji explodes, jumping out of their chair.

Smith smiles softly. “I’m glad. Welcome to the Legion.”

And this is how our hopeless bunch ended up selling our souls to a blond devil in the name of freedom and humanity.

Trust me, that’s not nearly as poetic as it sounds.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I had to split this chapter into two because I think the ~flow~ of the story will be better like this, so this ended up being sort of a filler or something.
> 
> I wanted to post this in time for Marco's bday but :(
> 
> Anyway yo, thank you for all the kudos and bookmarks ~~yes good keep them coming~~ I love you all a lot. Please let me know what you think of the story so far and all that jazz~ comments are very nice.
> 
> And stay tuned for two of your fave lesbians in the next chap. Jean cannot take Ymir in a fight and that is fact. DUN DUN DUN DUN. ARE U EXCITED NOW?


	8. Magic beans

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _"Our steps are silent against Sina’s streets and the evening darkness grants us even more stealth, but Marco still leads us through a long route with minimum CCTV coverage until we reach our first stop only a few minutes later. I stop him before we make our last turn around the last corner.  
>  “Here should be okay,” I say, pointing towards the top of the wall behind us._
> 
> _He nods and takes a few steps back, giving me space._
> 
> _I drop my backpack onto the ground, take a few steps back away from the wall, then turn to face it. The height is good, my hands are dry enough, my clothes are comfortable and my shoes are good for this; I don’t need to run too much, just take impulse, chest up, step, step, pull chest over…_
> 
> _I take a breath and charge towards the wall. My foot connects with the surface and I don’t slide down the wall. I push and make my other foot connect. One more push and I grab onto the upper edge of the wall with both hands. My feet stick to the wall and with one more push I throw my chest over the edge. One of my feet meets the roof and I can stand up safely."_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I think this is as good a time as any to say I don't know shit about hacking. Like, I researched it but I didn't find very precise explanations or one without mega complicated terms that would look out of place in fanfiction SO YEAH I'm sorry 'bout that.
> 
> Also, this fic remains unbeta'd. I'm sorry about that too.
> 
> I'm sorry for so many things oh God...

Hanji returned our phones and I don’t think any of us wanted to touch something that Hanji has touched. Not because we’re douchebags who hate Hanji, I mean, nah, but… it’s Hanji. The manic gleam in those bespectacled eyes, the mad hacker look, the loud enthusiasm… None of us can be blamed for not wanting our phones to blow up in our hands and tear us in half or something, honestly.

But they promised us the tinkering was kept to a minimum – the new Hanji-made update messed up the way our phones were connected to Mitras, shifting it to the Legion’s network instead or whatever. The gist of it is, as far as Mitras knows now, these phones don’t even exist. Calls can’t be traced, messages can’t be read by third parties, files can’t be archived into computers outside the Legion.

(“Does that mean they could have found all the photos I took before? And traced our location, too?”

“Yeah, but don’t look so worried and guilty. There are millions of people in the city, they wouldn’t search for something unless they had reason to, and when they got their reason you were already down here anyway. I’m disappointed I didn’t find any nudes or even light sexting…” A shake of the head. “Youth these days is so boring.”)

 Eren and Mikasa understood right away what had been altered but Marco and I could only look on in confusion, which made me suspect that whatever “jobs” we would get in this organization, Eren, Mikasa and Armin’s job would be related to whatever Hanji does too… Which in turn made me wonder just how the hell I would fit in with these people. I can dust books and organize shop windows pretty well, but I doubt those talents can be used down here.

After that, we were left alone for a couple of days. Armin and his grandpa came in (gramps, by the way, is adapting quicker than any of us and he smiles so much he might as well be one of the Underground people already), Sasha and Connie dropped by with clothes, toiletries, and enough food for a few dozen people. Money is not an issue for the Legion, it seems, but when Eren asked about it, Hanji just shrugged and smiled. I’d probably be worried if I didn't already know that we’re living in an illegal city controlled by a criminal organization which we got roped into being a part of.

I found out about Marco’s weird Pavlovian response to messes, which is to organize them immediately, and he found out I’m a pro at not making my bed. I found out he’s getting along with all my friends (our friends now, I guess) like he’s known them for ages, and he found out – or rather, figured out by himself, that I’m kind of the odd man out.

(“Does that bother you, Jean?”

Silence. “It used to, sometimes, yeah…”

 “Used to?”

“There’s a reason I’m not living in this room alone, Marco.”

Silence. “O-oh… I guess you’re right.”)

Eren eventually broke under the weight of the recent chain of events and stayed inside his and Mikasa’s room for a whole day to wallow in his rekindled anger and hatred for the Military Police and take it out on his pillow (the corpse of which he got hit on the head with by Levi later, because “don’t destroy pillows when we don’t have extras lying around, are you an idiot?”), though Armin and Mikasa were neither surprised nor worried with that outcome. But they did look angry the whole day, too.

Despite the lack of activity, those days were still tense, because everyone knew that soon our illusory peace would be shattered.

Marco and I are just lazing around in our room after lunch, chatting about music and that one movie with that one actress we’ll probably never get to see now when someone knocks on our door.

“Erwin wants to speak to you all again, let’s go,” Levi says.

Ah, here we go.

* * *

 

Room 00 looks pretty much the same as the last and first time we saw Erwin, except with a slightly larger number of people inside. Some of them I have seen in the cafeteria, there’s that guy who told me how to find the cafeteria on my first day and Armin’s grandpa, there are some I have never seen before. If they’re here, that means they’re part of the Legion, and that Erwin has many more pawns in his board than I imagined.

“These past few days must have been strange for all of you. Are you adapting well?” Erwin asks, his eyes fixed on our little group through the screen.

We all exchange looks and make motions or noises of agreement.

“That’s good,” he says with that soft smile that I can’t quite bring myself to believe. “Hanji and I have discussed all the information about the inner workings of Sina available to us at the moment and I’d like to discuss the participation of each one of you in these new plans.

Our first goal is to get access to the city surveillance cameras so we can verify information we have that could be outdated as well as get as much new information as possible on different levels of MP and Mitras personnel. We have a map of their locations all over the city,” at this, Hanji waves the map in the air, “so you’re going to be sent out in two-man teams to hack into their video feed using a device Hanji will develop with their new team comprised of Eren, Armin, Mikasa, Mr. Arlert, Nifa and Moblit. I’d like to set the wheels in motion as soon as possible, so please work hard. Meanwhile, the rest of you will receive basic training from Mike and Levi so we can diminish any risks while you’re out.”

“Excuse me, sir.”

I turn my head to look at the speaker and it’s a woman I’ve never seen before. She’s small in every sense of the word, with short hair a tone between strawberry blonde and light red, but her posture shows her confidence and her eyes are fierce as she stares at the ring leader of this circus.

“Yes?”

“Are you saying we’re going back to Sina? Most of us will be killed on the spot if we’re seen.”

Erwin interlocks his hands on the desk before him, expression shifting into one more somber. Somehow, this shift makes me trust him a little more than that gentle, friendly smile. It shows that he actually cares about our lives, even if he just suggested something that could get us killed. Ironic, almost paradoxical, I know, but true still. “You will be somewhat disguised, all your moves will be made in the evening, Hanji’s team will keep their eyes on your surroundings while you work and, as I said, you will train so that if you’re found out you have at least a fighting chance to survive. The risks are still high but this is the best option at the moment. Any more questions?” Silence. “Alright. Then I will stop imposing and let you go to work. Good night, everyone.”

And just like that, the screen goes dark and the lights in the room turn on.

“Whoever has to come with us, let’s go,” Levi says, already turning around and walking towards the door, with a mountain of a man in his trail. Soon, a small crowd begins to make way to the door, and we’re about to join in when I feel a tug on the hem of my (new, clean, kinda small) t-shirt. Armin, who was behind us this whole time, has my shirt caught in one hand and Marco’s in the other, but he’s looking straight ahead and not at us when he mutters, “Be careful.”

I ignore how ominous that sounds in favor of nodding along with Marco and joining the rest of our group.

“See you at dinner,” Eren calls, and it’s the last thing we hear before Marco closes the door behind us. And after years of knowing the idiot, I can tell it’s also a read-between-the-lines sort of call, because _as if_ Jaeger could care whether we eat dinner or not, it’s more like his dumbass way of saying “Go to dinner tonight no matter what, asshole, I wanna know what went down with you two”. Sure, Eren, whatever you say, your majesty.

Now I almost feel like skipping dinner just to go against him. But a) I’m a grown-ass man, I don’t have time for that childish Erenish stuff; and b) two meals a day means I wouldn't be able to sleep because I’m so hungry if I skip dinner.

“Aren't you nervous?” Marco mutters as we follow our new instructors through the tunnels.

“About this training thing? No. About going up to Sina to fuck with the MPs in their home turf? You have no idea.”

He laughs. “I’m pretty sure I do, actually.”

“And to think ten days ago we were still up there working and living like any regular citizens…” I wonder out loud.

He hums. “Feels strange, doesn't it?”

I nod.

We stop walking as the shrill sound of rusty hinges rings in the air, seeming even louder due to the narrow space. In a single line we enter this new room that is about half the size of the cafeteria – still pretty large – and has most of its floor covered by a thick layer of a solid, but soft material. The lighting only covers the padded area, leaving the part where we stand in semi-darkness. One wall is entirely covered by continuous large mirrors and the others have all sorts of things hanging from them – from bo staffs to a shelf of knives, a few pairs of punch mitts and kick shields. I am seriously skeptic as to how hand-to-hand combat could help us against the armed-to-the-grills police… but I think it could be used to kick my ass so whatever, I’m not gonna complain out loud.

Levi and this new Mike figure take off their shoes and socks before they step up onto the floor padding.

“Listen up,” Levi calls. “Before we do anything, we’re putting you all through medical evaluation.” He points towards Mike, who’s standing in front of our group. “Just follow him to the infirmary right there, take off your shoes and filthy socks and we’ll see you in a bit.”

“Come on,” our blond instructor says, and we follow him to the right corner of the dark strip we’re in to stand in front of a white painted steel door.

He knocks on the door twice before it opens quickly with a squeak to reveal a short figure in a white lab coat. This new woman doesn't smile at all and looks bored, if anything. I sneak a glance at Levi. Yeah, there it is, the exact same expression. I don’t like doctors by nature, but being examined by someone who looks like they’d rather be drinking cat piss than touching you is on a whole new level of ugh.

“Hanji called; I was waiting for you,” the woman says.

The doctor and the instructor speak quietly for a minute, and then Mike nods and turns to us. “Doctor Rico will take care of you, so line up and do what she says,” he says, as if he’s talking to children. I scoff but slide down the wall behind us nevertheless, sitting down with one knee bend and the other leg stretched out. I pull Marco so he’s standing in front of me in the line.

He sits down and looks at me with a quizzical expression. “Jean?”

I shrug. “Sorry, dude, but she looks like she could rip someone’s dick off and I like mine where it is so you go first.”

His eyes widen. “You’re using me as bait?”

I put my hands up in front of me. “I said I’m sorry, dude, what else do you want.”

He shakes his head. “I can’t believe you,” he mutters, trying to hide one of his dumb, bright smiles behind the back of his hand. “She doesn't look that bad though, you’re just being a child.”

“Speaking of child..." I begin, pondering if I should go on or not. Well, I already started so why stop here? "... Are you still mad at Levi?”

He sighs. “Jean, we were never close, Levi and I. He made sure I survived, yeah, but it’s not like we’re best friends or anything. We were more like… roommates. There’s a gap, you see.” He huffs, his expression becoming a little forlorn. “A huge one, it seems, way bigger than I imagined. I don’t think I have the right to be angry right now.”

 “He sounded pretty worried, though, on that night when they found your house.”

“Why wouldn't he be? He spent over a decade trying to protect me as well as himself, and in one night all that effort was thrown in the trash. Besides, he’s not an awful, uncaring person with a heart of stone.”

“Well, _that_ remains to be seen. But you _can_ be pissed off at him, you know. You earned that right.”

His face scrunches up a little and he shakes his head again. “I’m not angry at all, though. I’m not even thinking about him, honestly, even though that’s kinda awful of me… But it’s just… For a long time he was the only person I had around so it feels like I’m losing that on top of everything else and, well, I feel a little like a child lost in the middle of nowhere and that’s scary.”

I feel a… _something_ tug at my heart and the brief sensation of ants crawling all over my hands and leaving a trail of cold sweat, which is strange and new and I can’t understand it, but I push all that to the back of my mind. Marco’s utter honesty is something I’m still not quite used to but I think it at least it deserves my full attention, so that’s what I give him – even if talking about feelings is something I’d rather not do, like, _ever_. He interrupts me with a chuckle even before I begin to speak, however.

“Sorry, that must have sounded strange.”

I shake my head. “Not at all… If that’s how you think then that’s how you think, who cares how it sounds. And…” I sigh. I don’t expect him to take what I intend to say next very well but I already started speaking so might as well finish it. “When you’re wallowing too much in your losses, you can’t see what’s straight ahead of you.” I look at him to gauge his reaction, but I can’t tell if his frown is him being offended or paying attention. Either way, I keep going.

“What happened to you – to Eren and Mikasa too – is shit, yeah, and it’s understandable if you wanna mourn for your house and peace and whatever else, but it’s like… as long as you’re staring at your past and tragedies, you won’t be able to properly look at what’s going on in the present or what could happen in the future. You’re so focused on what you lost that you can’t see what you've gained.”

“Gained? I've gained nothing, Jean,” Marco scoffs, and while I get why he’s saying that, I kinda wanna slap him too.

“Grumpy over there was the only person you had, you said, but now you have me, Eren, Mikasa, Armin, Connie and Sasha and probably a bunch other people you could meet down here. And, fucked up as it is, you've got more freedom down here than you had when you lived in Sina, don’t you? You can walk anywhere and talk to anyone without worrying about your safety or keeping secrets. It would be best if you got your shit together and move on already, Marco.” I swipe a hand in a half-circle in front of us. “This is what you have right now, so take it and use it as best as you can. Carpe fuckin’ Diem and all that junk.”

I’m unnerved by the silence that follows, since I don’t know what it means. A punch and some yelling I would have understood; some tears too, maybe, but silence? I glimpse at him from the corner of my eyes to see he’s staring at me with a vacant look. I feel my cheeks heat up a little under his scrutiny.

“What?” I bark.

His eyebrows shoot up. “I’m just thinking that speech was surprisingly eloquent and deep, coming from you.”

“Shut up, jerk.”

“No, really, it was beautiful.”

“Marco. Shut. Up.”

“I’m being honest—”

“I get it, so shhh.”

He bursts out laughing and after a moment I chortle myself, though I blame it on some sort of mirror reflex.

“Hmmm… You may have a point, though,” he says afterwards.

“Glad you see it that way.”

He turns his head away and I have a feeling this conversation is over. Soon he comments, “The people coming out of the infirmary don’t seem to be missing any body parts, Jean,” and I know I was right.

“They’re probably hiding some nasty wounds under their clothes…”

“Well, if she doesn't wound them, our instructors will.”

“True. Did you see that Mike guy?”

“Yep. He’s huge, right?”

The conversation makes a turn into the territory of trivial subjects and we don’t stop talking until he’s called to enter Dr. Rico’s infirmary, which means soon it’s going to be my turn to be prodded and analyzed and I can’t even think of anything else besides the chills and goosebumps I’m getting.

“Alive and unscathed,” Marco says to me as he leaves the infirmary. He’s smiling, but I’m feeling a little sick so I can’t say anything.

His brow scrunches up in worry. “Jean, are you –”

“Next! Come on in.”

I walk past Marco into the small white room with cold sweat accumulating in my palms. Dr. Rico doesn't help my case when she looks me up and down languidly with an inscrutable look, like a hunter sizing up its prey. I get flashbacks from my mother’s thin smile and my father’s stern hand patting my shoulder, and it makes me tense up even more.

“Sit over there.”

“Breathe in… and out. In… out…”

“Have you ever been in any accidents? Good.”

To keep myself sane, I obey her commands and answer her questions as quietly and quickly as possible, hoping to leave this claustrophobic, too-bright, too-clean inferno as soon as possible. I ask myself if she can feel it how my body goes rigid and then completely pliable when her cold hands brush against my skin, like the prey recognizing its predator and accepting its pitiless fate. But that fate never comes. I’m okay. I’m fine. I’m alive. I’m breathing when she says, “We’re done,” and takes big steps back until there’s a desk between us and I’m standing while she’s sitting down. I feel like all the tension I was holding in oozes out at once. So much so, that I don’t feel anything negative when I speak of my own volition for the first time since she closed the infirmary door behind us.

“I don’t know if this is relevant but… recently I noticed that sometimes my heart will start beating really fast all of a sudden, and I get a little light-headed. Could that be a heart condition or something?”

“When you say ‘recently’, how long do you mean?”

“Only for the past few weeks or so.”

“I see. Well, your lungs are healthy and so is your heart. Are you feeling anything else out of the ordinary?”

I shake my head. “So does that mean anything important?”

She stares at me for a few long, long seconds, a look of confusion on her face. “I’m inclined to say it means you’re an idiot.”

I scowl. “What– ”

She gets up from her chair and walks toward the door. “Most people figure it out eventually, but suffice it to say you’re completely healthy.” She opens the door  and I get up to leave, still scowling because that was _freakin’ rude_. “Be careful with your training. _Next! Get in._ ”

“Jean!” I whirl around and Marco’s leaning against the wall at the back of the line. He smiles but it’s not his usual smile, it’s that one from several days ago when we were in my room in my apartment in the city, the “I’m smiling for your sake not mine” smile that makes me queasy. “Alive and unscathed, I see.”

I nod. “Shocking, right? No wounds.” _Except in my ego._ How could she call me an idiot? What’s wrong with that woman?

“So… Are you alright…? Back then, I mean… you looked…”

I put on a smile like the hypocrite I can be. “Of course I’m fine. I just told you, no wounds.”

“Oh… I’m glad.” He doesn't sound convinced, but I appreciate how he doesn't try to push the subject.

It takes another half hour until all people in the room except one who immediately leaves are declared fit for whatever activities the higher up duo has in store for us, and they get us started right away. The class turns out to be less exciting than I feared, since we spend hours working on mastering different stances and nothing else, but before we’re released for dinner Levi promises us that tomorrow isn't going to be so simple. He also reminds us that we’re supposed to meet up in this room at 9 in the morning on the dot, which earns groans and curses from a few people. “When you feel like whining, remember why you’re going to be practicing hard from now on and why we need to be quick,” he says, and everyone shuts up.

It’s strange to think that I don’t really know any of these people and most of them probably don’t know each other that well either, but we still have a lot in common and are working towards a same goal. The sense of “unity” isn't there since we’re not a team, only a bunch of paws spread on that blond hunk’s chessboard, but there is a sense of equality and a vague sense of empathy due to our shared misfortune.

Even then, when we’re leaving the room and a guy with a sour face bumps into my shoulder and glares at me as if it were my fault, I can’t help but thank god that I don’t have to actually get along with anybody. I’m here to follow some orders, try not to die, and that’s it.

“Hey, how do you think they’ll form the teams?” Marco asks.

“Dunno… Probably according to individual skills or something like that.”

“It would be nice if we could be in a team together, right?”

I smile a little. “Yeah, that’d be cool,” I say, though in the back of my mind I wonder _would it really?_

* * *

 

“Wait, is that really all you did?”

I roll my eyes. “Hell, Eren. _Yes._ For the eighth time, yes, that’s all we did.”

“You just… stood around, like, posing…?”

I shoot a look at Mikasa, who seems to be focusing on her food and not giving the slightest attention to the conversation. “I’m going to punch your brother.”

“Then I’ll punch your dick,” she replies.

Marco grabs my arm. “Don’t punch her brother, Jean.”

“If it means you no longer being able to procreate, I’m okay with getting punched. I’ll take one for humanity.”

My hands clench under the table. This fuckass is really testing my patience today and although seconds ago I was half-joking about punching him, if I repeated it right now I’d be dead serious. Then again, I don’t wanna get punched by Mikasa so I guess I’ll have to content myself with tripping Jaeger in the corridor when we leave…

_Yes, that’s a solid plan._

“What about you guys?” Marco asks, effectively breaking the growing tension. What an angel. “What did you do with Hanji?”

A loud sound of utensils clattering against plastic and the steel table, and Armin practically rises out of his seat to bring his torso forward, closer to Marco. His big, glowy eyes indicate the beginning of a very Armin-ish geek out.

 “It was so interesting! We had to study the papers Eren’s dad had about CCTV cameras in Sina and apparently they only use common IP-based cameras, which are technically easier to hack. But at the same time Hanji has been trying to gain remote access through any means they can but so far no dice. We got to see what exactly Hanji has been doing and offer some input, but frankly, given how everything is going it’s clear their security is a lot higher than usual. Seeing the effort they put into securying their systems, we can only assume that the possibility of getting hacked back is high even if we achieved our goal of gaining access to a small portion of the information stored in Mitras, and we simply can’t afford that because this isn't a case of freedom or jail, but one of life and death for the hundreds of people in these tunnels.” His previously beaming look fades until a grave expression takes over. “If we were hacked back the government would eventually find the IP of the main computer, track its location, then likely send the entire MP down into the Underground and nobody would even be able to attempt escape since we’re, you know, under the ground.

If Sina’s CCTV security was a little lower we wouldn't have to send you guys out there at all, but we don’t have that going for us. So today we caught up with Hanji’s work and the papers, but starting tomorrow we’ll start researching and developing something completely new for you guys to hook directly into their network in place of the cameras.”

“Wait, but that would still count as hacking into their network, so wouldn't they still be able to hack back and access the Legion’s network?” Marco asks.

“Not so easily, nope, because we’d operate it as an indirect attack from an already well-protected third-party device, which amplifies our security. Of course they could still maybe find us, but that would take some time, especially because the Legion uses original cybersecurity measures to stay anonymous and such.”

“But we’d still have to implant your little creation into every surveillance camera in Sina?” I ask.

Armin shrugs. “I don’t know what Captain Smith is planning, but I think it would be safer and wiser to only choose strategic points in the city and places where Dr. Jaeger has marked as being police patrol routes. And you would have to hook different devices into all those different spots, yes, but mostly for our safety.”

“So those are the reasons behind Smith’s orders…”

“Yes,” Armin nods.

I chuckle, though I’m as far from amused as one could get. “There’s no escaping this suicidal mission after all…”

“I’m sorry,” he says, and I reply with a half-smile and a ruffle to his hair.

“Don’t apologize for something that’s not your fault, buddy.”

“Hey, Armin,” Jaeger suddenly speaks up. “The Captain said we’ll hack the cameras to gather information but what do you think will be phase 2 of this plan?”

“I… I’m not sure. We’ll probably damage their system little by little until we have the opportunity to shut it down completely, but that could fail… and if that fails…” he shakes his head, “… I don’t know what would come next.”

I sigh, quite disappointed in the total lack of intel about the plan that could jeopardize my life. I can understand why Smith won’t disclose full information since he’s weighing safety and risks ultra carefully, but I resent him a little. “At least the CCTV thing should make things easier for Connie and Sasha… How long do you guys think you’ll take to come up with your technological thingamajig?”

“Hmmm… If we keep up this rhythm, about a month.”

* * *

 

“Please tell me you guys are done.”

“Sorry, Jean, we need another wee—oh my God, what happened to your hands?”

“We started this ‘parkour’ thing with Le—”

“Say no more.”

* * *

 

“It’s been a week since you said you guys would be done in a week, Armin.”

“Not now, Jean, I need to come up with a thing.”

“A thing?”

“Yes, a thing.”

“Is that thing the thing we’ll use to mess with some surveillance cameras?”

“Get out.”

* * *

 

 “Hey, I saw that guy in your team in the infirmary, what happened to his eyebrows?”

“His name is Moblit and Hanji happened. More importantly, what happened to your cheek?”

“Jean hit himself with a stun gun.”

“Shut up, Marco. I can hear you laughing, Eren, you dead son of a – Mikasa, no, wait, I didn't mean it. Please - ouch!”

* * *

 

“How – ”

“Ten days.”

“Okay.”

* * *

 

3 months. 3 months is what it took for what we came to call the geek squad to develop the tiny device cutely named the Hanji bean. It is first and foremost a camera very similar to the ones in Sina, with the exception of being smaller and accessible to the Legion. The idea is that we disconnect the cameras up in Sina and replace them with the beans, then automatically allow Mitras’s network to connect with the tiny devices so we can share access to the video feed and so on.

During those three months, the grunt squad trained basic hand-to-hand combat as well as parkour (another thing I was skeptical about, but it started making sense with time) with Levi (who is freakishly good at it) and how to properly operate handheld directed-energy weapons with Mike. The thing that bugs me about that is that we didn't only learn how to use DEWs for self-defense in case of encounter with MPs; we also learned how to use them as lethal weapons. Now I often try to convince myself that that is for extreme situations only, situations we may never encounter, but when you hold a weapon in your hands and think about taking another person’s life with it, the hypothetical situation takes on another dimension and it’s like you can see it in front of you so realistically. When it happens to me, I can see my hands shaking as I point towards a dark green uniform, I can hear my heart going crazy from all the adrenaline, I can hear the blast, my target’s scream due to the intense pain, I can pinpoint the moment they die and most of all, I can see how after that one loud, inhumane moment everything goes silent. My heart calms down, my harsh breathing goes back to normal, my hands stop shaking, and the green uniform doesn't move at all, it doesn't even blink, because I took their breath, heartbeat, sight, all parts of their brain. I killed them. I actually killed them.

Ever since we started to practice our shooting (and yeah, they have a shooting range down here. Makes you wonder what they don’t have) it’s like a new weight has been added to my conscience. It’s the “what ifs” that are driving me crazy now. What if I have to kill someone? What if Marco has to kill someone? What if I die? What if he dies? What if nothing happens at all and our mission is a success with no casualties? What if I’m worrying for no reason?

I’m not the only one who’s being haunted by these what ifs. I can tell by the slope of his shoulders and his increasingly endangered smiles that Marco is thinking something similar. I can tell by the way Armin has been eating less and less and frowning more and more that there’s something nagging him that he won’t share. I can tell even Jaeger is worried since we haven’t argued in days. Mikasa seems quieter than usual. The number of jokes Connie tells when he’s with us has decreased. Sasha now brings food and computer parts as requested by Erwin, plus a bag full of our friends’ favorite snacks.

Sometimes I even have nightmares where I kill people now. Usually everything proceeds exactly like I imagine it would when I’m conscious, but sometimes there’s no shaking hands, just the blast, the kill, the silence and no remorse, no mourning, no nothing. That’s even scarier. When I remember those dreams in the morning I always have to stay in bed for a few extra minutes to remind myself that I’m still whole, I’m still human, I’m not the same as the police who kill innocent civilians for the smallest of reasons.

3 months passed surprisingly quickly, though. And not all of it was filled with pessimism hardship. First of all, I can say with confidence I no longer get lost in the tunnels on my way to the cafeteria at noon, which is goddamn impressive. Marco and I managed to build up some muscle (but only a little) thanks to all the workout sessions that were part of Levi’s draconian How To Not Get Yourself Killed In 30 Seconds Like The Dumb Shit Stain You Are program, which is in part revolting because Marco looked good before, but now? Pfft. Get the hell out of here. Even the scars that we got from knives, falls, and a few of Hanji’s prototype weapons look good on him. But you know what? I reached the conclusion that I wouldn't mind being this close to the guy even if he were in the geek squad and still had unmarred skin, or if we were living peacefully in the city above us, or if we were dead and chilling in the afterlife. In 3 months I came to the conclusion that maybe, just maybe, increased chest pressure and sweaty palms were never a health problem, but instead part of a much bigger issue, which is that maybe, just maybe, my thing for my current roommate is not a “I wanna do bad things with you” type of thing, but a “I wanna do bad things with you then steal your clothes and bring you breakfast in bed at least once a week” type of thing.

And I can’t tell what he’s thinking because he’s always nice and gentle with everybody. Even in the moments I feel like he’s treating me differently from everyone else I don’t know if that’s because I’m his best friend, his roommate, or something else. Though, ha, there's no way sweet, perfect Marco would look at me in a romantic way. I'm an asshole, I'm not nice, I'm not sociable... Hell, it's a mystery how he puts up with me at all. So I won't even keep any hopes as to not get myself trampled like a soiled napkin in the future.

My name is Jean Kirstein and it sucks to be me.

“Are you sure this is the right tunnel?”

I roll my eyes. “Yep. Trust me, man, I can walk through these tunnels blindfolded now.”

“Thankfully. I got lost on my way to the bathrooms again last night.”

“So that’s why your shower took so long!?”

“Yeah! I spent 5 minutes in the shower, 30 finding my way there, another 20 finding my way back.”

I laugh.

“Don’t laugh, I’ll learn the way sooner or later. Until then I’ll just have to rely on you,” he says with a smile.

I smile back. “Okay, then I’ll remember to never let you walk around alone.”

I savor the pinkish hue that spreads across his face and the tips of his ears as his smile widens. “It’s a good thing we’re partners, huh.”

_Is it really? Would it be a good thing if you had to see me kill someone or see me get killed? Would you feel that way then?_

“Yeah. Surprising that they would let us choose, though,” I say.

“Well, there aren’t many of us and all our abilities are sort of on the same level, so those factors probably don’t count much.”

“And if you’re working with someone you actually give a shit about you’ll work twice as hard to make sure you have their back.”

“Yeah – Oh! I can see the ladder!”

“Oh, you’re right.”

It takes us mere seconds to reach the dirty ladder, a few more seconds to set up communication with Hanji’s team (because this is the first time a team is going into Sina, the whole Legion is paying attention), then Marco types the access code into the number pad on the door and with a whoosh we’re surreptitiously welcomed into Sina once again through a rectangular cut on the floor – which opens manually from the inside but only with Hanji’s or her team’s assistance from the outside. Like the square cut in Jaeger’s basement, this rectangle sinks into the ground and gets pushed to the side while we exit the passage into a narrow, unlit alley. It slides back in place and we’re officially cut off from the Underground temporarily.

Marco pulls up the map of the city on my phone and I catch a glimpse of the red circles indicating cameras we should ignore, a few green circles for the cameras we’re supposed to meddle with, as well as the blue square that represents our current location.

“Hanji, everything in order?” I speak quietly, adjusting the comms device inconspicuously curled around the shell of my ear and my new black-rimmed glasses that are not here for fashion purposes at all (although now I think I can pull off the look quite well, to be honest).

Hanji’s loud voice enters my ear after a blip. _“Hells yeah. I can hear you fine, your glasses’ video feed is alright, your new black hair looks amazing. Hey, Marco, say something so we can check your microphone one more time.”_

“Um… Is it alright?”

_“Perfection. You’re good to go, boys. Godspeed.”_

I reach behind me to pull on Marco’s wrist, desperate to leave this disgusting alley as soon as possible, although he’ll be the one to lead the way. When I let go of him he rubs my arm through my hoodie in a reassuring gesture that lets me know he’ll take the lead from now on. Just that simple exchange of physical contact is enough to make my heart rate accelerate and make me hyperaware of every inch of my body where the fabric of the hoodie rubbed against. But I ignore it like I've been ignoring for the past 3 freaking months since this isn't the time or place to fantasize about how warm his hand would feel if he actually touched my skin.

Oh God, that sounds bad. Is this what happens when you feel the warm and fuzzy things for other people? You turn into a total fucking sap?

Our steps are silent against Sina’s streets and the evening darkness grants us even more stealth, but Marco still leads us through a long route with minimum CCTV coverage until we reach our first stop only a few minutes later. I stop him before we make our last turn around the last corner.

“Here should be okay,” I say, pointing towards the top of the wall behind us.

He nods and takes a few steps back, giving me space.

I drop my backpack onto the ground, take a few steps back away from the wall, then turn to face it. The height is good, my hands are dry enough, my clothes are comfortable and my shoes are good for this; I don’t need to run too much, just take impulse, chest up, step, step, pull chest over…

I take a breath and charge towards the wall. My foot connects with the surface and I don’t slide down the wall. I push and make my other foot connect. One more push and I grab onto the upper edge of the wall with both hands. My feet stick to the wall and with one more push I throw my chest over the edge. One of my feet meets the roof and I can stand up safely.

 _“I could only see the wall, but I can tell that that was hot”_ , Hanji says into my ear.

I snicker. “Thanks, I guess.”

I look down over the edge at Marco, who flashes me a thumbs up then waves a little red box in the air. I nod and he throws the box in my direction. I pick it up mid-air and turn around in the direction of the surveillance camera. Now, as Marco keeps watch of the street, I can do my job of tinkering with this darned camera. I climb another (shorter) wall and hope to any deities out there there aren't any cameras installed in places higher than this in the future…

I walk across the roof of the building carefully, lay down on my stomach by the edge nearest to the camera, stretch my arms to test my reach and pull them back.

“I can reach it. What now?”

_“Open the box. See that small tool on the left – no, the other one. Yeah. Take that out and use it to unscrew the acrylic dome.”_

“Alright… Done.”

_“Now go back to the tool you picked before and use that one to crack open the white casing. Good. Now take the bean. Rip off that cable – no, the other – no, Jean! The one on the left!”_

“Goddamn it…”

_“It’s okay, you’re doing fine. Now remember what I told you? Take the bean and – oh, you got it! Nice! Now hold on, let us see how well this baby works… Armin! Moblit! Get over here!”_

I can hear the _tap-tap-tap_ of fingers on keyboards in the background and some quiet chatter but soon the chatter turns into quiet cheering and I take a deep breath of relief.

_“Yep, we got it! Thank you, Jean.”_

“No problem.”

I hurry to stick the bean against the back of the camera with adhesive gel and screw the acrylic dome back on. I jog back to the edge of the lower building and jump down to meet Marco. He flashes me a dazzling smile and pulls me in for a one-armed hug that takes me by surprise but that I wouldn't dream of rejecting.

“Good job,” he says as he pats me in the back.

I shrug. “It was easy. Anyone pass by?”

“Not a soul. And I was so tense, oh God…”

I laugh and ruffle his hair. “Better get used to it, freckles, or it could be bad for your health.”

“I’ll get used to it when I get used to seeing you with black hair and glasses.”

I hand him the red box, pick up my backpack and sling it over my shoulder.  “Do I really look that bad? Wait, where do we have to go next?”

“Just follow me. And you don’t look bad… it just looks strange.”

Now that we had a first success, a lot of the tension has dissipated, making it a lot easier for me and Marco to chat while we walk. But we have to stop when we’re a few meters away from our second camera because someone shouts, “HEY! HEY, YOU!”

I ignore the yells and enter an alley behind Marco. What makes me really stop in my tracks is a second shout from a second person.

“Ymir, wait!”

At that I turn around wide-eyed, just in time to be shoved against one of the walls in alley with enough force to make me lose my breath and experience the world spinning when my head hits the hard surface behind me.

“I knew it was you! _WHERE THE FUCK HAVE YOU BEEN, YOU DUMB SHIT?!_ ”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> YMIR! PARKOUR! BEANS! POSSIBLY UNREALISTIC HACKING! ALL THE THINGS!
> 
> Spoilery hint for next chapter: 50 shades of blue.
> 
> As always, feedback of any sort is strongly appreciated and desired! <3
> 
> (Hmu anonymously at [fivefootabitching.tumblr.com](http://fivefootabitching.tumblr.com) if you want.)


	9. Blue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> " _'Wait.' I stop in my tracks, waiting for him to give me a reason, but he’s not looking at me. What he’s looking at is far above us, strategically located in the middle of the city, up on the ceiling, if you could call it that. The big, flat disk that’s only now started to glow faintly – the first light of the day. The disk will get brighter by the minute until its shape is invisible behind the blinding white light, and the walls of the fancy dome-like cage will go through all shades of blue until it settles for a soothing light blue. 'It’s been so long since I saw it…'_ "

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the huge delay!! Sorry this chapter is so short!!  
> Again I'm sorry for many things. Please don't hate me too much.
> 
> The road so far: Jean sells illegal books and Marco is a fortune teller in the city of Sina until the Military Police goes after Marco (and Levi), turning them into fugitives. Turns out good ol' Grisha Jaeger had some plans to mess with the government and once he was captured, to buy some time for his kids, he pushed the blame to someone else. Eren, Mikasa, Armin, Marco, Jean, Levi, Connie and Sasha all escape to an underground city and have no choice but to join their group of rebels commanded by Erwin Smith himself, with the humble goal of overthrowing the government. Jean and Marco end up as roommates and a team ordered to go back to Sina to hack into some cameras to aid the rebels. During their first mission they're so lucky they bump into their old buddies Ymir and Krista.
> 
> Wow. Summation skills A, storytelling skills F.

The impact makes my glasses go askew across my face, and when I shove Ymir the hell back they end up falling on the ground.

“Get the fuck off me,” I snarl.

And _fuck_ again, my head hurts. And all the noise around me doesn't help at all. There’s Hanji screaming “ _Holy shit! Are you alive?_ ” right at my eardrums, there’s Krista yelling at Ymir to let me go, there’s Marco calling my name to the left, the loud rustle of fabric as he shoves my fucked-in-the-head assailant away, his voice asking me if I’m okay over and over and over again, there’s Ymir telling me not to be a pussy, “I didn't shove you that hard.”

“Yes, you fucking did,” I snap in answer. “Argh, my head hurts. What the fuck, Ymir? Do you have bird shit in your head instead of brains?”

“Honestly, Jean, if tall, dark and handsome didn't look like he wants to eat my guts I’d be kicking you until your pancreas came out of your ass! You disappeared for four months, you complete dickbag! You and the rest of them!”

Krista tugs on Ymir’s sleeve, a scared look still on her face. “Ymir, please, calm down – ”

Ymir doesn't listen, just keeps vomiting words that, admittedly, we all deserve. “No calls, no messages – you jerks just up and vanished. We skip movie night one time and suddenly Eren and Mikasa’s house is torn down, your apartment, PIXIS and Armin’s house are left in complete abandonment, we stop by the Rose and suddenly Connie and Sasha start avoiding us like a nasty bug… _Just what is going on_?”

She stops, takes a deep breath, regains her composure as I slowly lose mine. I feel guilt and anger uncoil in the pit of my stomach like cacodyl. We really did vanish without even trying to establish contact with these two, but that was for the better in the end. The rest of us are all too deep in problems so if we could at least spare these two from participating in this clusterfuck, that’d be good, is what we figured. It’s a big testament to my utter lack of luck and the Universe’s truly fucked up timing (or sense of humor) that we had to bump into them during our very first job. Not only that, but they are the first people we see tonight. What a joke. But that old, familiar static is back and I feel it creeping up my shoulders so I feel inclined to believe this isn't a mere coincidence, but something that would happen no matter what. As I said, the Universe has a truly fucked up sense of humor.

“Are you okay, Jean?” I’m almost surprised that the voice doesn't belong to Marco, but to Krista. She brings a delicate, small hand up to the back of my head and I wince a little. “I’m so sorry about that. Do you want me to take a look?”

She looks so worried, so repentant, and her hand is so gentle over the shorter part of my hair in the back that even in this poorly lit place I can see the bright, shiny aura oozing from her pores and the little angels and puppies floating over hear head. Just what god did Ymir bribe to be so lucky?

“Does it still hurt? Can you see and walk normally?” Marco asks beside me, his expression almost a mirror of Krista’s and scratch what I said about Ymir’s luck. Right now with the combo of Krista and Marco offering their gentleness to me I feel healed already, healthy as a horse. I feel incredible. And also, I feel heat spreading from my cheeks to my ears.

“I-I’m good,” I mumble. “You guys don’t have to worry.”

“H-hey, Krista! You’re too close, you’re gonna catch the stupid, why don’t you come back here where it’s safe?” Ymir tries, but Krista only removes her hand from the throbbing spot in my head, not moving a single inch back.

“Ymir, you should apologize. Being angry with Jean doesn't excuse what you did. You could have seriously hurt him, you know!”

Ymir clicks her tongue and looks away. “I wouldn't have seriously hurt him, I knew what I was doing,” she grumbles.

“No, you didn't,” Marco bites back, not even glancing at her.

Ymir turns her cold, narrowed gaze upon him. “Who are you, anyway?”

“My name’s Marco,” he says, finally turning his head to face her.

“I meant _who_ are you? Jean’s new boyfriend, the deserter troupe’s new mascot, some random guy…?”

“ _Oh, for the love of –_ ” I groan, then sigh. I figure out there is nothing that will make Ymir less pissed off. Nothing but the truth, anyway. And, since these two are our friends and legit members of our friend squad of dipshits and dumbasses, they're trustworthy. “Hanji, I’m telling them.”

A bleep. _“Are you—Never mind. Just wait a minute._ ” Silence. Bleep. “ _Alright, go ahead_.”

Ymir and Krista both look confused, probably because I just spoke to someone who is not with us, which, when put together with the nasty impact my skull made with the wall just moments ago, can't mean anything good. I ignore their looks and begin to unravel the tale, starting with Jaeger’s father. I keep it brief and leave some details out, like what exactly the doctor’s documents are or where they come from, or Marco’s past (that one’s not my story to tell), or what we’re doing here tonight, or where we’re staying... Basically, I give them the bare bones and nothing else. I just hope this is enough to quell their anger and curiosity. But by the end of the explanation, Ymir looks like she’s ready to bang someone’s head against a wall while Krista looks like she can’t quite believe all this.

I hear Hanji say, “ _Wow. Summation skills A, storytelling skills F_ ,” but I ignore it.

“But… you still could have picked up our calls. We were really worried,” Krista says, but I just shake my head.

“After we realized just how screwed we are, we didn't want to drag you into the mess.”

 “But now that you know, what are you going to do?” Marco blurts out after a moment of quietude.

“Help y—”

“Nothing.”

In a flash, all of us are staring at Ymir, who crosses her arms in front of her chest.

“Why?” is all I ask, her words twirling and tumbling instead sinking in in my mind, like a coin before it slips and falls flat.

“You got into trouble with the Military Police, you’re as good as dead. I want nothing to do with that,” she says coldly.

The coin stops, stands still for a quiet moment before it falls and clinks against the ground, ceasing movement.

So that’s that.

I shake my head and let out the faint feelings of betrayal and anger escape my throat in the form of a hollow laugh. I didn't expect her to jump to our aid like Sasha and Connie – those two are loyal to their friends and family in a way that Ymir will only ever be to herself... and maybe Krista, but at the same time I didn't imagine she would just leave us out to dry without a second’s hesitation. I mean, we’re… friends. Close friends. Fuck, she got drunk in my apartment, gave Mikasa a lap dance and then puked on my couch during Connie’s last birthday party.  We were looking out for them by keeping them in the dark, but now that they know… Ymir’s sitting by the pool watching while all her friends drown. It pisses me right off.

“You shove me into a wall for not being a good friend in the past four months but refuse to help.” I take slow steps forward until I’m standing in front of her. Her stolid mien, these crossed arms that keep everyone away, the suddenly neutral tone of her voice… All of it, _of her_ , pisses me off.  But it’s not only for the betrayal. There’s a whirlwind of feelings and thoughts wreaking chaos inside of me, but anger is my default emotion next to indifference, so it becomes my comfort zone. I know for a fact my face can’t hide a single fraction of my fury – which I think is good. Let her see. Let her look into my eyes and see my judgement. I stare at those narrow eyes and hold her gaze. “What a big hypocrite you are.”

The coldness in her eyes melts straight into red hot anger. She’s quick to grab me by my hoodie and hiss in my ear: “Listen here, asshole: I don’t care if you want to hate me, but don’t you judge me. You've never had _anybody_ , Jean, so you don’t understand what it’s like to have something you want to protect. But I do and I’m not risking our safety to get waist deep in the shit you guys created.”

She releases her hold on my clothes and I am forced to take a few steps back to regain my balance.

“We better not see any of you ever again, you guys hear?” she adds coldly, removing the knife she dug and twisted into our backs. She’s already walking out the alley into the brighter streets of Sina, leaving us behind when she calls for Krista. “Let’s go home.”

Krista hesitates, taking a step towards the taller girl before she stops and looks between Ymir’s retreating back and us. “I… I’m sorry. I’ll talk to her, I promise,” she mutters quietly, looking between me and Marco with an intensity that makes it impossible to doubt her words.

We watch them walk away from us in silence, but as soon as they’re no longer visible I shake my head and grit my teeth and Marco once again brushes the back of his hand against my forearm briefly.

“Hey, we should get going,” he says, albeit gently.

“Yeah, whatever,” I mumble.

He picks up my fake glasses from the floor and hands them to me. He takes the lead again and I follow him out the alley, in the opposite direction from Krista and Ymir. I take a moment to wonder what they’re thinking of right now, if they’re upset they just lost all their friends, upset for being the ones leaving them behind, if Ymir’s already regretting her words… but that’s useless. I put the glasses on again (they’re a little… crooked, but otherwise fine) and finally step out into the artificial brightness of the city, leaving the alley behind.

* * *

 

“ _Got it! Well done, you boys can come back now._ ”

Marco’s weight disappears from my back and I groan as I stand up and stretch, thankful to all deities out there for being able to stand vertically on my own two feet again.

“Damn, Freckles, you almost broke my shoulder back there.”

“Sorry,” he says sheepishly. “But to be fair, I couldn't stand still with you fidgeting, Jean. If you hadn't moved so much I wouldn't have stepped on your shoulder accidentally.”

“ _Stomped._ You _stomped_ on my shoulder, Marco. And I’d like to see you keep still when you've had a grown ass man stand on your back for 10 minutes.”

Marco rolls his eyes and I roll my shoulder, trying to alleviate the pain (even if it doesn't hurt that much anymore). “Sorry,” he mumbles, looking at his own feet, cheeks becoming an enticing shade of red. I feel that itch in my hands again.

I smirk at him. “Eh, I’ll survive.”

He shoots me a dirty look from under his eyelashes, one that says, “I know you’re not really hurt but I still feel guilty because I'm too good of heart and I’m angry at you for that”, but his lips slowly stretch into a wide smile that I end up mirroring. “You’re impossible,” he says with a shake of his head, and that just makes me grin wider.

I bend down to pick up our backpack. This was the fourth and last camera we could temper with before sunrise (Marco and I decided to take turns watching and implanting the beans, which is sort of how I ended up on all fours with Marco standing on my back to be able to reach the worst placed camera in all of Sina) so now we’re finally free to go back to the Underground and sleep like the dead for a few hours. Just thinking about the comfort of my bed makes my eyes droop a little. _Soon,_ I think, _soon we will be reunited, my darling_.

“Let’s go.”

“Wait.” I stop in my tracks, waiting for him to give me a reason, but he’s not looking at me. What he’s looking at is far above us, strategically located in the middle of the city, up on the ceiling, if you could call it that. The big, flat disk that’s only now started to glow faintly – the first light of the day. The disk will get brighter by the minute until its shape is invisible behind the blinding white light, and the walls of the fancy dome-like cage will go through all shades of blue until it settles for a soothing light blue. “It’s been so long since I saw it…”

He’s right, of course, and his comment evokes a bout of nostalgia. After months of being locked up beneath the ground without being able to count on the slow appearance and disappearance of light to tell the hours, without seeing the blue ceiling or having so much free space around us we can’t see any walls, or in this case the edges of the dome, there is something specially appealing about this sunrise. We have been so caught up with our mission we forgot to enjoy the freedom of being above ground.

Freedom. Just months ago I would never associate the word with Sina, in fact, it’s because of the lack of freedom the city provides that we’re holed up in the Underground. Because we wanted more freedom, we limited that which we already had. What a big slice of irony right there.

_“Fuckface, Marco, you both should be here before the sun finishes lighting up.”_

I groan. Eren fucking Jaeger is controlling the comms? “Where’s Hanji?”

 _“They’re passed out on the table, curled up between the books, hugging a miniature tree and drooling over some papers with what looks like the latest model of bondage gear drawn on them.  Right after they talked to you, they said_ ‘Excellent’ _, yawned, dragged themselves over to the table and_ ploft _.”_

Marco laughs and I try to picture the scene in my head. “Are you for real, Jaeger?”

He sighs. _“Dude, I couldn't make this shit up if I tried. Wai—What was that, Moblit? They said—Sawing beans? Wonderful, now Hanji’s talking about sawing beans in their sleep.”_

“Are you guys filming it?” Marco asks.

 _“ Mikasa, are you filming?”_ He chuckles. _“Good. Yeah we are.”_

“Cool. I wanna see it when we get back,” I say.

“Then hurry up and get back here, you stinky cabbage.”

My eyebrows shoot up. “Stinky cabbage? What are you, five?”

Eren groans. _“Shut the hell up. I haven’t slept in like a million years, give me a break. And fucking hurry up so I – we all – can go to sleep.”_

“No need to get so defensive, you rotten potato. We’ll get there as soon as the sun finishes lighting up, rusty desk lamp.”

Marco laughs, an open, loud sound almost like a bark, and it warms me up all the way down to my toes.

_“Whatever. But Jean, if you guys are still up there by morning your chances of getting caught will only get higher. You should come back while it’s still dark.”_

I know I can’t argue with that, that being up here for any amount of time more than the necessary to do our jobs is a risk, but being up here for the first time in such a long while feels… good. There’s a light breeze where we are so the air doesn't feel stale, the walls are beyond what our eyes can see even from the roof we’re standing on, the light is white instead of neon blue, there is no perpetual humming coming from the walls but only sacred silence… I feel like I could lie down right here and spend years just watching the dome transition from blue to blue.  I don’t want to go back just yet.

Apparently, Marco feels the same way, because he says, “There’s an entrance tunnel only a minute and a half away from here and no police patrols will pass through here until afternoon. We’ll be okay.”

He sits down and stretches his legs and I sit right beside him. Eren mutters something that I don’t care to listen (but do I ever care to listen to Jaeger?); I’m already focused on the sunrise. Marco’s smiling softly at nothing in particular, and a thought passes through my mind that I could lie down here and spend years just watching his skin tone mingle with and reflect shades of blue, he’s far more interesting than any dome. Jaeger could be yelling his lungs out, there’s no way I’m going back just yet. I’m not giving up this peaceful, quiet moment. For the next half hour, Marco and I hardly speak. We just enjoy the little bit of freedom we have, the cool breeze, the hundred shades of blue, the orange peck from the odd, rare streetlamp in the distance, the silhouettes of buildings.

When the sunlight is almost at its blinding stage and we move to leave, it annoys me to leave this moment behind. I wish that peace and quietude could last forever.

Obviously, the Universe disagrees.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> How many "fuck"s does this fic have so far? By the end of it it could be competing with The Wolf of Wall Street, there are so many.  
> But yeah. Ymir is a tough little nut, Krista is a tiny, secret bamf who will do things, sleep deprived Eren isn't good at name calling, Hanji is Hanji, and Jean and Marco are fucking cute.  
> I hope you enjoyed that tiny moment of utter peace and bliss, because next chapter marks the very middle of the story and ya'll have a big storm coming.
> 
> Next chapter hint: TITANs. Oooh yes. _They_ are finished, and ready to. Fuck. Shit. Up.
> 
> Please leave some feedback to make a dumb little author happy XOXOXO


	10. The Wheel of Fortune

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _"'Get fucked, Jaeger.'_
> 
> _'I’d tell you to eat shit, Kirstein, but I don’t condone cannibalism.'_
> 
> _'What the fuck did you just say?!'_
> 
> _I want to laugh, I really do, but if I do I’m afraid I’ll cry or something dumb like that. The closer we get to Sina, the tighter the knots in my stomach become. All I can think about is how many minutes and seconds we have left."_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1 - **_POV SWITCH!_** Because the events of this chapter mark the very middle of the story, consider it a bit special. Hence, Marco POV.  
>  2 - If you read the tags, none of them say Major Character Death. Just... keep that in mind.

When I was 8 years old I dreamed of faceless figures colored in gold and black and red. I dreamed of magicians and priestesses, lovers and fools illuminated by a bright sun, spinning wheels and wands and swords. Those dreams went on for months until my mother presented me with a small box – the material wasn't anything fancy, but its dark red color with delicate drawings in golden ink could fool you. Not that 8 year old me recognized the beauty of the gift, no, not at all. Up until then any gifts I received had been toys or clothes wrapped in colorful paper and tied with glossy bows – compared to that, the box didn't impress me at all. And then, frowning even as my mother smiled and nudged my father with an elbow, the picture of excitement, I opened the gift.

All those figures from my dreams had been fixated onto cards, their names written at the bottom.

After that, toys and clothes kept coming, but along with them came old silver bowls, dirty, rough crystals, candles, incense sticks that always make me sneeze and cough… That deck of cards was my mom’s way of welcoming me into the family business, I suppose. Because of that, I always keep the cards in one of my pockets. Nobody knows that but me, though, because I would certainly get teased for being so sentimental if somebody found out. Well… Jean would, that’s for sure.

Jean. Jean Kirstein. Self-titled asshole, who doesn't snore but always wakes up with red pillow marks on his forehead and cowlicks on both sides of his head, who often makes references to old books nobody else has read, who can go from yelling childish insults to quietly philosophizing on the hidden valor of cowardice in seconds, who I dreamed of for 3 weeks until we met.

I wish I could say that doesn't sound creepy, but it’s not like I did it on purpose anyway. I can’t control my dreams, specially the foretelling ones. And it’s not like the dreams weren't innocent and harmless, either. They were just tidbits that I could hardly make sense of – Jean brushing his teeth and trying to speak at the same time, Jean and a group of people trading insults back and forth in a poorly lit room with dirty walls, Jean falling onto an unfamiliar bed, mumbling something and then falling asleep immediately, which makes me laugh. Only seconds per night that left me wondering about that man for weeks, only to find out one day that he was working right across the street.

Well… I mean… there was one dream that… well. Um. Suffice it to say I was aware of my crush on him even before it became real. I wish I could explain this better, but it’s just one of those things that you’d have to experience to understand fully. Just like the terror and breathtaking despair and agony that comes with foretelling nightmares like the one I just woke up from.

After the sun finished rising we hurried back to our new home, the Underground, and went straight to bed, not even stopping by the central room to watch the brief video of Hanji’s sleep talking while hugging a plant. All the anxiety pre-mission, the jumping and walking around and the nervousness and worry that someone will notice us left us exhausted. I used whatever energy I had left to change into my pajamas, but Jean face-planted onto his bed with a groan and never opened his eyes again. I did pretty much the same not even 3 minutes later. And then the nightmare came, and it was as vivid as any dream that when I wake up I know will become reality.

I can’t remember all of it now that I’m awake, but I remember darkness, the deafening sound of my heartbeat in my ears, Jean running in front of me in his new black clothes, turning his head once and then twice, my breathless voice yelling at him to not look back and keep running, making a sharp turn into an alley that only leads into a wide street. I remember a bright light, the ghost sensation of hands on my arms, a shout, and a warm liquid and warm, slippery pieces of something just as warm hitting my neck and face. I remember not moving anymore, my eyes fixed on a familiar pair of amber eyes that are too still and unblinking and unfocused. My heartbeat sped up even more and I don’t know how much of the liquid warmth on my face was blood and how much was tears, by the time I blinked my eyes open slowly, only to see the familiar metal ceiling and hear the perpetual humming of the Underground. In a second I was sitting up and kicking the covers aside, the nightmare finally hitting me with full force and a scream building up deep in my throat. Now I cover my mouth with my hands to not make a sound, not wake him up, but whimpers still escape through my fingers, sounding way too loud in our silent room, and I worry I’ll wake him up anyway – I almost hope for that, because even thinking of his sleeping form, so still and silent, reminds me of the nightmare.

With one shaky hand I rub my face with enough violence it stings, making sure there is no blood, no pieces of flesh, no sign that Jean is dead, dead, _dead_. When there is nothing, my eyes begin to sting and I have to bring my hand back to my mouth and press harder to keep myself quiet. My breathing becomes to loud and ragged and I will feel bad if Jean wakes up, even worse if he figures out what woke him up were the sounds of my panic.

Thankfully, as the minutes pass and I get quieter, Jean doesn't wake up and my panic slowly dissipates, leaving only an odd numbness I haven’t felt in years, not since I saw my parents die in the flame of a candle. I sit down against the wall behind me, not letting myself lie down for fear of sleeping and having the same nightmare, but at some point my exhaustion must get the best of me because next thing I know Jean himself (alive, cowlicks and all) is shaking me awake.

“Wake up, Sleeping Beauty. Wake uuup. Marco, are you awake yet?”

I open my eyes blearily, feeling the extra weight in my eyelids due to a night of restless sleep, and I almost sigh in relief to see him so lively.

 “You’re finally awake. I was starting to think you were in a coma or dead, dude.”

Normally I would laugh in appreciation even of his attempt at humor, but today I don’t think that will be possible. Because I’m not dead, but he soon will be. “Did you call me a beauty?” I mumble after a few seconds.

Jean rolls his eyes and backs away from me, moving towards our shared closet. “It’s a fictional character.”

“Hmmm… I don’t think a book about a handsome guy who sleeps a lot can be very interesting.”

He chuckles. “She is actually a princess who gets cursed and has to sleep in a castle in the middle of buttfuck nowhere until her true love comes to wake her up with a true love’s kiss.”

For a moment there’s only the sound of the rustling of fabric as he puts on a pair of jeans. When he turns around I only raise my eyebrows and he blushes.

“Don’t tell Eren about that story and don’t tell Eren I told you about it; actually just forget I know stories about princesses, pretend the last 5 minutes didn't happen.”

Despite the sleepiness and despite the lingering memories of the nightmare, I can’t help but laugh, and suddenly I feel a little stronger and ready to face the day. For now I will push that nightmare aside and try to forget about it until… well, until I’m ready to think about it.

“Okay, I won’t tell Eren you love stories about princesses and true love’s kisses… Can’t say anything about not telling Connie and Sasha, though – oh! I bet Mikasa will love to hear ab—”

“You wouldn't dare, Bodt! I know where you sleep, you freckly bastard!”

By the time the pillow hits my face I’m laughing again and I keep laughing even after the image of Jean’s mangled body lying in a too large pool of blood flashes briefly in my mind.

* * *

 

“Ymir did what?!”

Several shushes go around the table while both Armin and Mikasa pull on Connie’s sleeve to keep him in his seat. Connie and Sasha arrived a few hours earlier to deliver new bags of food to the kitchen ladies and, as usual, they decided to stick around for a while to hang out with the rest of us. They were very excited to hear about everything that happened during the mission last night, talking about how cool we must have been, like spies in a movie and all that, and the storytelling was going just fine (with everybody speaking over each other and adding their own commentary to every boring thing we did – which only amuses me and makes me feel… comfortable, in a way. A bit warm and happy, too. This is the first time in my life I've had so many friends and the chance to interact with them all at the same time. Being included in this group makes me forget I ever felt lonely and that’s nice) until we reached the part where Ymir threw Jean against a wall and pretty much decided to abandon us all to our fates with no remorse.

“Well, I mean… we did keep them out of the loop so they wouldn't get involved so I guess we don’t really have much room to complain, do we?” Armin's shoulders droop a little, like he’s already resigned to not hold Ymir’s actions against her. As a rule of thumb, our group tends to rely on Armin's ideas and opinions to formulate our judgment, since he is by far the smartest of us all, and more often than not also the most reliable. But when I replay the scene with Ymir last night in my head, her words and how she said them, I can only reach the conclusion that Armin is wrong.

“But—she is – was – _is_ your friend, and it’s not like we were asking her to die for a cause or anything. She shouldn't have denied you outright. Besides, there has to be something she could do to help that’s not dangerous, like… I don’t know – ah, helping Connie and Sasha gather the food and clothes and stuff! Not delivering it to us directly, but to them.”

“I think frecklebutt is right,” is (what I think) Sasha says around a mouthful of chicken and mashed potatoes. (I can’t believe she’s still calling me that, though… It’s been a month since Sasha, Connie and Jean had an argument over the colors of my freckles, which turned into an argument over my name, which resulted in Connie “accidentally” mispronouncing Bodt as Butt, and after that… well, Sasha did what Sasha does best. Besides eating, I mean.) “When I was little my mom said that when I’m eating and there’s someone around, even if I really don’t want to, I have to offer to share my food with them to be kind and polite.” She scowls. “We gave Ymir a cake and she took it and ran away to eat it all by herself, that jerk.”

“Well, that’s fine,” Connie says with a grin. “Ymir isn't here but instead we have Marco, who’s just as tall, dark, freckly and handsome. Our pack will survive.”

Eren grimaces in mock-contempt. “Please, Connie, we don’t need to know you have the hots for Marco.”

Connie shrugs in reply. I, on the other hand, can feel the heat creeping up my neck at top speed. “Now, you know I’m a ladies-only kinda guy but I can admit a guy’s got a fine physique when that’s true. Not even you can deny Marco’s got a case of the handsome,” he says.

Armin hums. “I think Marco’s pretty nice-looking,” he adds quietly, and Connie hooks an arm around his neck, making him drop his fork with a loud clattering sound. The whole discussion just makes me want to disappear or at the very least meld with the chair but all I can do is blush furiously. The heat spreads from my neck to my cheeks to my ears in seconds and _oh God, please make them stop._

“U-um, guys –”

Connie points a finger at Eren. “See? If Armin can admit it, so can you.”

Eren grunts. “Fine. Marco is… he looks… okay.”

 _I said_ God, please make them stop. _God, please._

“Just okay?”

_Please, please, please._

“Yeah…. I mean… He’s like… average, I guess.”

“Average? Marco’s way cute, he’s not average!” Sasha joins in.

_God, are you even listening?_

“Ugh, I already said he’s okay-looking! Why don’t you bother Kirstein? He hasn't said anything yet!”

_Oh no._

“G-guys, no –”

“Jean, tell Eren you agree that Marco’s super cute and fine.”

_Never mind, nobody’s listening._

“I guess – ”

_Okay, God, if you’re not going to make them stop then please kill me._

The sound of cutlery. “Guess what?”

A sigh. “I guess… Marco is… more attractive than average. I guess.”

“I think you all need to stop,” Mikasa says, but her calm voice barely registers in my mind. “Look. You guys killed Marco.”

_Thank you, God._

My name is Marco Bodt, and this is the story of how I died.

But not really.

* * *

 

Despite Connie’s and Sasha’s presence and jokes, and despite all the laughter and good spirits that come with the news and feeling of a mission succeeded and a job well done, through the next few days I still find myself unable to completely shake off the image of Jean’s mangled corpse from my mind. The flashes are triggered by sounds and motions and colors that I can’t avoid in any way. The sound of children running? _Flash._ Bright lights? _Flash._ Loud noises? _Flash._ The warm, red, chunky soup they serve in the cafeteria at least once a week? _Flash. Gag._ When we get called into the central room by Hanji to hear about the devices other teams managed to hack into and the ones that will be our next targets, I wonder if this will be the mission that kills Jean, or if it’s the next, or the next… If his is the only life that will be lost. And now that I can think about it with a clear head, just what was it that was chasing us in the first place?

The alley. That’s what I keep coming back to. If we were being followed by MPs on foot or Unicorns, that alley would have been the worst possible place to enter, given how it would indubitably aid our enemies and give them the opportunity to destroy us like fish in a barrel. One well-aimed shot at one of the walls to either of our sides and we would be trapped in or at least slowed down by the debris, giving them plenty of time to take us out. But whatever it was in the nightmare, I don’t think it followed us inside the alley. But what was it?

“Marco?”

I snap my head up, finding several eyes focused on me, including Hanji's. “Pay attention, this is important.” When we’re talking about missions their whole demeanor shifts into something more subdued than usual, something serious. It’s a strange shift. One moment you see them talking to a potted plant and giving it endearing nicknames, and the other they’re right here sounding like an absolute authority you want to obey.

“I-I’m sorry.”

The eyes go back to watching Hanji's fingers move over the map on the table,  but Jean keeps looking at me from the corner of his eyes, frowning when he’s sure nobody will see. I avoid looking back, settling for following the actions of the geek squad and focusing on Hanji, but that earns me a quick graze of something against my sleeve. I don’t have to look to know what it was. I still remember the first time I did the same thing months ago, unsure of how much I was allowed to touch to comfort him, allowing myself only the briefest moment of physical contact and hoping it would suffice, feeling glad and relieved when it apparently did. Since then, I guess it sort of became a thing for us. A means of communication, if you will.

I reach out to reciprocate the gesture, a silent “I’m fine, please don’t worry” but instead of fabric my fingers brush against cool skin. Jean doesn't move and neither do I for a moment, but that only makes the urge to slip my fingers between his stronger. I imagine myself doing it, too, what it would feel like, how would he react. I pull my fingers back toward my body and the mental picture disappears. It’s ridiculous how so little contact already makes me nervous and elated. But every little touch is like a small drink of water to a parched man – it makes me want more, more, more, until the thirst is sated.

There is so much I want to do… but who knows how much time we have left.

“That’s all for now. You both be ready tonight, you’ll be leaving and coming back a little earlier than the last time.”

“Understood,” Jean says with a firm nod of his head. I guess I’ll have to ask him what Hanji was saying.

That night is not the night Jean dies, but we are late on our return due to the fact I can’t unscrew the acrylic cases fast enough or connect wires on the first try due to my nerves.

* * *

 

Two days later, I get caught red-handed.

“Where did you get those?” Jean closes the door behind him and points towards the cards spread on the floor, a frown on his face. We don’t get many surprise bags of toys and games from the suppliers, not unless we ask one of them for something specific or have someone on the surface send something through the suppliers (like Mr. Pixis, who last week sent Jean and Armin books with very angry letters attached to them. He didn't appreciate his only employee and best customer disappearing for months without saying anything, apparently. But he was relieved to find out where they were when he contacted Captain Erwin a couple of weeks ago), and the last time we saw Connie or Sasha they didn't have anything in specific for me or everybody would know.

“U-um…” I stutter, not knowing what I can say that won’t end up with me being mocked for my sentimentalism. Maybe I could say I got them from Levi? But no, the both of us don’t speak anymore outside the gym and Jean knows it… Oh hell. “I um—I brought them with me.”

“Really? Then why have I never seen them before?” He sits beside me and picks up one of the cards to examine it carefully. He make a noise of surprise when he sees that instead of numbers, there’s the Wheel of Fortune on the other side.

I sigh. “I didn't really want anyone to see them,” I mumble.

“Dude, why not? Is this part of your fortune telling thing?”

“Yeah, they’re tarot cards.”

“And you wanted to keep them hidden because…?”

I begin to scratch the back of my neck. “Because my mom gave them to me… and I always carry them everywhere, so… It's just too sentimental, so...”

There are a few seconds of silence during which I think he’s trying to reign in his laughter or something like that, but then he flicks me in the forehead. “That’s it? You thought someone would make fun of you because you carry around something precious that was given to you by your dead mother? Don’t be an idiot, Freckles.” I turn my head to look at him, my hand stopped over my nape, my nervousness ebbing away. Jean reaches over and ruffles my hair, his hand sliding down and caressing my now warm, definitely red cheek and my jaw before he quickly pulls it away like a kid who just got caught with his hand in the cookie jar. He looks away. “You remember the key Eren used to get us down here, right? His dad gave the key to him, to he wears it around his neck. Mikasa always wears that red muffler because it was the first thing she received from Eren. I think even Armin has something from his parents, I don’t know. This sort of thing, there’s no reason to hide it.”

Did that just happen? “Uh… Wha—what about you?”

My question visibly takes him by surprise, and whatever weird atmosphere had settled around us because of the slip of his hand vanishes. “Oh man,” he begins, laughing.

“What is it?”

“It’s up in my apartment but… oh shit I can’t believe I’m telling you this,” he groans and covers his eyes.

I laugh. “No, come on, spit it out.”

Another groan. “Ugh, man… it’s a toy my parents gave me when I was born. It’s this… big, ugly, stuffed animal with the body of a pink giraffe and blue fucking elephant legs. It’s so ugly, Marco. So fucking hideous, and my mom loved it.”

We both end up laughing, Jean shaking his head at the memory of the absurd toy, me grinning at how much joy the memories attached to the mutant stuffed animal seem to bring him. This is the first time since we met that Jean says anything about his parents that can’t be found in old newspapers or any obscure archive in Mitras. This subject and those memories are an uncharted territory that lay beyond a door, and Jean’s letting me peak through the old-fashioned lock. Funny how he doesn't even know the gifts he’s given me in the past what, 8, maybe 10 minutes. But that’s Jean in a nutshell; he doesn't realize the effect he has on the people around him.

“Now that that’s out of the way and you know my secret, won’t you show me how these cards work, tell me what the future awaits, all that shit? That okay?”

“Oh? No longer a skeptic, Jean?”

He shrugs. “Those tea leaves were pretty convincing, given that everything grumpyass mcshortie said would happen actually did happen, even if it was all shit.”

I chuckle. “I see. Well, here’s what we’re gonna do…” I take a moment to put some of the cards aside and tell Jean to gather and shuffle the rest, then split it however feels right, think of a question or something like that. The cards are spread and he picks his 4 among the Major Arcana. I smile as I see the Empress and the Moon, and don't pay too much attention to the Tower (what's the point?). As I explain the meaning of the cards to Jean, his face goes through all of his most common positive expressions – the blushing, the smirking, the grinning cockily, the grinning for real…

If I reached over to ruffle his hair, what would he do?

* * *

 

“We already have access to a little over 41 percent of the CCTV cameras in Sina. That is the whole outer ring of this map and the second one.” Hanji uses a red pencil to scratch over the the map of Sina, which is split into 4 rings, one inside the other quite like a target, with Mitras at the very center. It’s been a month since the first mission, and since then all teams have been getting quicker and quicker at their jobs – both in our squad, and Hanji's. At the same time, it’s clear that the closer we get to the innermost ring, the tighter the security is the bigger the danger is for us. We’re only into the second ring and just this morning we heard from Petra and Oluo that a 3-soldier MP patrol team walked right beside them as they were making their way back to the tunnels.

(“We were lucky they were young. If it were anyone more experienced they would have recognized us for sure.”

Oluo huffed. “Huh, if any of the brats from last night had tried to fight us I could have taken them down ea—” And that’s all he managed before he (yet again) bit his tongue hard enough to draw blood.

“This is why you’re so much more pleasant when we’re working, when you’re efficient and can actually keep your mouth shut,” Petra added with a sigh.)

“I wish I could say we have time to celebrate a little but nah. We’re counting on the third ring to be substantially harder to infiltrate than the previous 2. The security will be tighter, the patrols begin earlier and finish later, and these soldiers aren't your typical 18 year old kids.” Hanji adjusts their glasses on top of their head and stretches with a grunt. “Aaah, that felt nice. Anyways: Marco and Jean, you’re gonna have to do your usual 8 camera trip in 3 hours, no more. You leave at 1 and come back at 4. This is the first mission in the third ring so be extra careful. Got it?”

We nod. “Yes.”

We go back to the gym to throw some punches with the other teams to kill time until dinner, when we meet up with Eren, Armin and Mikasa at the door. They tell us excitedly (well… Mikasa not so much) about the modifications they made on the fake glasses and the beans and I’m able to keep up with the conversation and offer input until I see what one of the old ladies has dumped into my bowl. Red, chunky, hot. _Flash._ Blood, flesh, death. Death, death, death. The urge to vomit comes stronger than usual and my hearing is completely blocked by a white noise that sounds like static, like a TV struggling to function. I feel invisible ants crawl up my arms and a chill run up my back. _Tonight._

_No. No, no, no._

“—ling?”

_Tonight. I’m sure of it._

“—kay, dear?”

_What do I do?_

“I said, is everything, dear?”

My head snaps up and my eyes lock with the old lady’s huge ones. She adjusts her big, thick glasses with bony fingers, attracting even more attention to her bright blue orbs. She does look concerned, though, and when I glance around from the corner of my eyes I realize she’s not the only one staring at me with a confused frown.

I force a smile and nod. “Yes, m’am. Sorry, just spaced out.”

“Marco, what’s wrong?” Mikasa asks while we make our way to an empty table.

Eren speeds up a little to catch up to us. “Yeah, dude, what was that?”

“You look pale.”

I lay my tray down on the table and wave my hand in dismissal. “It was nothing; just got distracted for a moment.” I hope my smile will convince them, and if it doesn't, it at least conveys that this subject is getting shut down because no more questions are asked. I sit down and they do the same only seconds later.

“If you say so,” Mikasa says, and that officially closes the subject.

Then I feel the light pressure against my sleeve. _Flash._ If he’s dead he won’t do this anymore. There will be no fleeting touches, no hair ruffling, no cocky grins or teasing anymore. And we only watched the sunrise once, I could only read his fortune once, I only had time to borrow one of his new old books.  And that’s all. In all these months this is all we have done and none of us has tried to push for more. And we only have tonight, I think. Without another thought, before Jean can pull his hand back, I slip my fingers behind his and hold on. I chance a glance and though he looks surprised – spoon suddenly paused halfway to his mouth in a way that looks ridiculous – he recovers quickly and squeezes my hand briefly. I don’t know which one of us is blushing harder but we don’t let go. Our hands dangle in the gap between our chairs, out of anyone else’s sight, for the rest of the dinner, and when he lets go I can’t tell whose sweat it is that dampens my fingers.

“So, are you sure you don’t wanna tell me what happened back there in the line? Or that you don’t need to drop by Rico’s or anything?” He asks once we’re back in our room, already changing into our black uniforms.

I sigh. “It was nothing. I’m fine, Jean, really. There’s no need to bother Rico.”

“Really? Because you looked like you were gonna puke all over Amina all of a sudden. I think you should go to Rico before we go out.”

I frown. “What the heck is an Amina?”

“The old lady, and you’re not gonna change the subject to easily, Bodt.”

“Well, I don’t think I can take your advice when you yourself refused to go to Rico after Ymir smashed your skull against a wall, Kirstein.”

“That’s different,” he mumbles.

I arch my eyebrows. “Oh, really? How so?”

He turns away so I can’t see his face. “Just is.”

I stop moving with my hands inside the sleeves of the black hoodie and halfway to my head. Jean keeps getting dressed and doesn't try to convince me to go to the infirmary anymore, which tells me that there’s definitely something to dig in there, behind his “Just is”. But I won’t (can’t) push tonight, so I repeat Mikasa’s words from dinner. “If you say so.”

 _“There will be a patrol near your first camera in 65 minutes so you guys have to be done by then. I know this is new ground for you guys but since Jean’s gonna be the guy with the map this time and horses can’t read maps, be careful,”_ is what Eren says a couple of hours later when we’re ready to step onto Sina once again.

 “I can fucking read a map, dipshit. And what the fuck are you doing with the comms? Where the fuck is Hanji?”

_“Taking a shit. Hey, Marco, if Jean gets lost do the world a favor and leave him behind, okay? Nobody will get even a little mad, for real.”_

“Get fucked, Jaeger.”

_“I’d tell you to eat shit, Kirstein, but I don’t condone cannibalism.”_

“What the fuck did you just say?!”

I want to laugh, I really do, but if I do I’m afraid I’ll cry or something dumb like that. The closer we get to Sina, the tighter the knots in my stomach become. All I can think about is how many minutes and seconds we have left.

Jean stops yelling at Eren when he looks over at me.

“Ready, Mar—hey, what’s wrong now?”

He’s still scowling but there’s no denying the worry in his eyes. Instead of a gentle touch on my forearm he goes straight for my fingers like we did at the cafeteria. And just like that, I feel like a door has been opened for me. I’m barely thinking when I raise my free hand and turn off the little device on my ear, then his. My hand stays where it is then, resting gently over his jaw, because if one of us is gonna disappear tonight, I should at least cross one item off the list of things we never got to do, and what simpler item to choose than this?

“Please don’t get mad,” I whisper. Then all it takes is one step in this narrow tunnel. One step and one tilt of my head, and I can cross kissing from that list. Whatever happens tonight, I have one less regret to carry.

For 3 heartbeats, Jean is as still and unbending as a rock and I almost pull away reluctantly thinking that as much as I want this to last, I don’t want him to be angry at me, at least not now. But as soon as our lips disconnect, Jean moves, a hand coming up to my neck to still me as we kiss again. That tiny movement shatters any self-imposed limitations I unknowingly had, and I let my desperation taint our kisses with the way I whine without meaning to and how I hold onto his hand and the hair at the back of his head like a drowning man trying to stay afloat. Jean shakes off my grip on his hand so he can bring me closer by the waist, and my hand goes over his shoulders to keep him right where he is at arms reach.

He nips at my lip and I slide my tongue over that spot, savoring the oddly tingly sensation, but Jean takes that as an invitation to deepen the kiss, to connect our bodies even further. It’s messy and a strange mix of hot and cold, but I have no complaints until he pulls away after one last, chaste kiss. Even then we don’t part completely, Jean simply rests his forehead against mine as we both catch our breaths – although, I would gladly suffocate if it meant we would never have to stop.

“Fuck,” he gasps. The long fingers on my neck move until he can wipe his thumb across my wet lips and while he follows the motion with his eyes, my eyes follow his. “Not that I didn't love that,” he begins, and clears his throat when his voice comes out hoarser than usual, “But now you really got me worried, Freckles. What brought this on?”

I shake my head. “I just… wanted to.”

He sighs and finally pulls away so the only thing connecting us is our interlocked hands. “If you don’t wanna talk about it now, that’s fine. We gotta get going anyway before Eren has a litter because we're off comms. But we’ll talk about this when we get back, alright?”

 _When we get back._ I smile. “Promise?”

“Duh.” He smiles back and turns on the communication device again. I do the same and wince.

_“Just what in the name of fuck did you turn your shit off for?!”_

“Shut up, Jaeger. We’re leaving now.”

I take a deep breath as Sina’s “sky” comes into view. I try to convince myself I’m ready for whatever’s out there but I won’t admit that I fail drastically at that. When my feet touch the ground and I get up, the opening behind us closes, locking us out of the safe tunnels.

“Come on, Marco.” Jean’s already pulled up the map and starts walking toward the streets beyond this unknown, dirty alleyway. I hitch our backpack up on my shoulders and walk.

The hours pass and nothing happens. We do the first camera, then the second, the third, the fourth, and everything seems to be fine, silent as always. With each step we take in safety the tension in my shoulders diminishes and I’m close to convincing myself that nightmare was a fluke, I was wrong, I was blessedly wrong and everything’s going to be okay; we’ll go back, sleep, I can steal some more kisses tomorrow because I can do that now, I am allowed to touch and grab and caress and kiss and care for endlessly just like Jean deserves… But my bubble of bliss pops when the alarm rings.

We look toward the direction of the sound – it comes from the other end of the alley we’re about to enter, from a machine I have never seen before. The machine is at least 10 feet tall, with bizarrely long, thick limbs sticking out of a globe with narrow, circular openings on each side near the bottom and a panel made of a transparent material through which I can see a man – young, with dark hair and the oh-so-familiar Military Police green jacket covering his torso. The alarm is a shrill, annoying sound that is bound to wake up everyone in a mile radius, and because it’s on, it makes a red circle glow on the transparent half of the metallic monster. The circle appears, expands until it’s a ring and another circle appears inside of it. It almost looks like an angry eye, looking straight at us.

“Fuck. Marco, run!” Jean pulls me by the sleeve, running in the direction we came from, and I run after him. I follow his footsteps closely because it’s happening… I know how this ends… and I will follow Jean until I can’t anymore, until one of us goes somewhere unreachable, until it’s all over.

_“What the fuck is – Hanji! Get Hanji, Moblit! Mikasa, call Levi and Mike – fuck, get anybody!”_

The monstrous thing doesn't follow us, but when we reach a street corner and make a turn, we find another one only a few meters away. “Shit. Turn back around!” I do what he says even before the words are out of his mouth. The alarm from the MP gets lower as the one from the Legion gets louder in my ear, but the noises seem like whispers when compared to the sound of my heart beating, pumping adrenaline and fear through my veins. Jean turns his head around to take another look at the machine that’s following us – its heavy steps making the ground tremble, and at least we've got that going for us – their size. Because they’re so big and heavy, they’re slow and we can stay out of their reach for now. But humans don’t have the endless stamina of machines, and my aching lungs make that obvious. “That was…” Jean breathes, but then shakes his head, turns around and keeps running.

“Marco Bodt. Jean Kirstein. You have been identified as wanted individuals. Surrender peacefully.” The voice isn't human; it’s stilted and sounds like two people speaking at the same time. Frankly, it’s barely audible to the ones being chased, and it makes me run faster.

_“Jean, Marco, they’re on the way, just keep running!”_

Suddenly, the ground begins to tremble harder and more frequently and the giant footsteps behind us double. “Fuck,” I breathe. But one pair vanishes soon, which only makes me more nervous. We run for another minute or so, running right through the middle of Maria Avenue, one of the busiest streets in Sina that always becomes the bed of one or two of the few homeless people in the city. As we run past one of them, the old man looks as scared as we are, but he has the luxury of shrinking back against the dirty wall of a store and hiding beneath his shabby blanket.

The footsteps behind us become louder and I can tell we’re running out of stamina, we've slowed down some. “There,” I hear Jean breathe, and then he looks back once, twice. The words are out of my mouth faster than I can think: “Don’t look! Keep running!” And a moment later Jean grabs my sleeve and pulls me into a tight alley, barely wide enough for two people.

The machine that was following us stops but reaches one of its arms into the alley, forcing us to keep running so we don’t get caught in its metallic claws. _Don’t! Stay back! Don’t go, please!_ Next thing I know, my fingers are grabbing Jean’s sleeve and pulling, making him stumble. I take advantage of that and push myself in front of him, and for once he’s the one following me. It only takes a second to connect the pieces – the steps that disappeared moments ago belong to the giant that shows up in front of me right now. There’s nowhere to run, nothing to do but scream as one of its claws enters my body with the speed and force of a giant bullet. I scream again as the claw slips away and my vision starts to blur and spin. I fall to my knees silently. The last thing I see is a flash of light as the giant falls to the ground, its bloodied claw making a dent on one of the walls of the alley, then my vision turns black and my conscience fades away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ~~Well, at least they smooched...~~
> 
> Firs of all, thank you all for the kudos and bookmarks and subscriptions! <3  
> Please leave some comments if you have anything to say, positive or negative, 's all valid!
> 
> About the tarot: Marco did a 4 card spread using only the Major Arcana of the Raider-Waite deck because boy likes to keep it simple. Or something. Also let it be known that I totally didn't write the whole process of tarot readings because that would add a good couple of thousands of words to the chapter, not to mention I'm not too tarot savvy ("lol no kidding?") so I would probably offend tarot readers everywhere (if I haven't already). Sorry.  
> Meaning of the cards (for the context of the fic):  
> Empress - she's usually a symbol of love, prosperity, comfort, fertility, etc, so we can assume that if Jean's still got any turmoils to work through, he'll do just fine and he won't be alone along the way.  
> Moon - emotional turmoil, fear, deception, possibilities, but for Jean this card is kind of a good thing because it sort of means his secrets will remain well kept. I guess?  
> Tower - chaos, big changes, bad omen overall, which is not surprising because since when does Jeanny boy get to live a peaceful, happy life? Pfft yeah right.  
> The fourth and omitted card would be Temperance - harmony, unification, balance, the joining of forces that will be required to achieve some major goals Jean (and, dare I say, most of the characters) have for the future.
> 
> That's all!
> 
> See you soon with some fluffy fluffs and some H/C. XOXO


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